Anti/mimesis

I consume what I have created,
Saturn devouring his son,
and then cry at what I have wrought,
skrik.
Time and space pin me to the spot, above my head
the starry night.
And sometimes all I am is a glove for someone else’s hunger,
a soft self portrait, with grilled bacon.

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About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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3 Responses to Anti/mimesis

  1. araneus1 says:

    “And sometimes all I am is a glove for someone else’s hunger,
    a soft self portrait, with grilled bacon.”

    Love that sentence.

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