a semisentient
cloud of static
in desperate need
of being held
of given a form
before stuttering
out of existence
a faint scorchmark
where nothing ever
was there to begin with

still i manage in
a feeble last gasp to
sputtermutterstutter
into the gaping maw
within and without
wheezing odes to
dessicatint on the vine
a persistent consistency in
making the same mistakes
yet always seeming confused
when nothing ever changes