casu marzu O seepage of unends

it wasn't lack of sensitivity or some inability
to surrender to the moment or to open wide

with some rushing of trains through sweeps
of open land in close Autumn it was just

that there was nothing in any of it to feel.

it was a sort of dead world it had created

in itself from which it glowered out upon
all of humanity with a look of machinery

that was running down towards collapse
that had somehow become aware of itself

that was displeased with the condition
that now wished pain upon others

in this way and others it had become
a rotten thing bringing violence

though those sponges and foliation
which had grown themselves to it




.
.