Shelf Help

She warms my glass dome world
the solid atmosphere refracting
and bending light to create a halo
of diffused peach hued blur, oranges
and reds and white blending
into an indistinct yet unavoidable distraction.

I can’t hear a word in here
breathing my own oxygen
and feeding through self decay,
I am contained and I am complete
and replete in discreet company
beetles and bread-mould
surrounding me in suffocating fluff
cold to touch and rasping lungs
as mould spores and weevil borers
find their way down to the core,
the heart of the matter amidst the splatter
of pancreatic bile and gall bladder bloom,
woven with threads of disconnected resonance
uncertain significance and lack of due diligence
and everything that disguises the nothing
the great empty lie that resides inside.

I am hollow and therefore I am.

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