To find things that matter only a little, you must not look any harder.

[alasanon]

Soft in the Shell of Madness

Drained of all pretense of free will
Rhizome dreaming in the earth
Asymptomatic, but steadily declining
Interior reflections lead to a certainty:
nothing lost is nothing gained. You wait,
even though you can't see the purpose,
despite the chill creeping into your bones.
The dirt surrounding you, fantastically cold
heavy around your limpet body, clinging.
Evolutionary mistakes you're suddenly aware of;
tubes dripping fluids out of the wrong holes--
underneath the surface, there is a rot growing
budding, like a fibrous flower
each passing moment bringing it closer to a bloom.
Still sinking, tremulous, into that deathly blackness.