Episteme
Slowly I close my eyes
Swallow my spit, spitt, spirit
Lips, and tongue. Tongue the
Words of the world, the physics of
Phenomenon, keep it on the tip of
My ghastly ghostly tongue. For on
My tongue I print my mind, my
Feeble, ugly mind. Heartbeat.
You can feel it in my chest, my heart
To yours. It is yours. Slowly it grows in
Unanatomical size. Swell, inflame, inflame.
Grow in size my tongue my mind my spirit
My body and the
Truth
Comes up on me impressing its
Almighty hand on my soul like a
Smouldering fire and the
Ardent caress of the truth creeps up
On every crevice of my trembling
Soul like fire and everything’s
On fire because the data
Is not adding up, and she
Keeps telling me no, no, never,
Not good enough, you can’t find me,
You really can never find me, no
And she taunts, her pristine, undying beauty
Branded in the white sclera of
My tired eyes, my tired tired eyes,
Come closer, she says,
And I come to her,
And I come closer and closer to her,
Shows me a little bit, and a little bit more,
A little more until I can’t take it anymore,
And then I reach out, my quick, heavy arms
Frantically, hopelessly grasping
For her to only
At the end of the day
Have been a mirage.