.
.
When you’re afflicted with Constructivitis
which allergically resists the
imposition of all
rational consistency – geometric
order, balance,
pleasing planes, proportion, clarity
and color –
.
and instead enlists as many
scraps, misshapen
flakes and bits as it can suck off
poisons like
formaldehyde, asbestos, paint
and pipes with lead –
oh, the dolor of the hopelessly
substandard heart
.
of darkness in the cheap and
badly bred! – you’d
almost think you’d welcome self-destructive
entropy:
rotting, rusting, ultimately deconstructing
into
piles of toxic glops and fuzz the
way detritus does.
.
But when you see a breeze-borne
random posse
of yourself drift by (which I
just now espied) –
say, ten blue moldy blips you last
felt crusting on
your lips – you want to cry. ‘There
go I,’ you sigh.
.
.
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