Coping Prana

It is the way I breathe through chronic terrifying ferns through a black ungracious stoma it is this uranium rejoinder this impact pointing backwards & when witnessed causes observers to panic to blur & forget & to flee they can’t see my approach my wayward dorsal looming my lettering in black drizzle it is my approach my weaving my sigil as curved embankment therefore I can never name myself or plot myself according to the sparks or the splinters from the work bench dazed ruthless with salivation with my awkward insular roaming I am like a few darkened eaglets riveted against the moon then I am brought to a table by deafness feasting with herons which spins me by embranglement by in-circular abatement always seeking to have me neutered beneath my derma so as to talk to myself so as to cancel my structureless scrutiny they speak of me as lawless as despicable as a typhoon in a sea well as to morals as to fixed & accelerated combination they fix me as deserted bereft as a fragment from a starving lion’s compendium I am considered as pointless positron without image as hieroglyph as sundial as martyr being leakage from a barbarous index province