Spore-Eater
To gain insight about the world around,
I will eat the spores which sprout from the ground.
These fragments of feeling are so fleeting,
Which make up my entire being.
Knowledge or solace will surely be found.
Some new sensation will echo its sound.
In feeding the hunger, I’m all-consumed,
And still picking at my aging wounds.
Joy and agony are momentary creatures,
Details and lines in a portrait’s features.
Without my peripherals, context lost.
Focus turned inward toward abstract thoughts.
I find myself never lacking surprise.
Inspecting the world with blood-shot eyes
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