Matter fades
in and out of existence
like the pain
from a needle that
stitches lips.
It exists
but isn’t quite alive.
This state
moans to Being
pleaing
offering his transcendent nothingness
to Nothing
prayerfully hoping
to fuse with Being.
Matter
recieves his death
when his offering
reflects back
upon him.
Another masterful personification of yet another one of the lonely members of the Void’s little puppet show…Matter. The Void kisses herself in the mirror so hard she tears her lip…Matter let’s her know repair is afoot. She refuses morphine – the pain is her lovechild. She watches it die, her lips screamlessly sewn, until the pain of loss escalates and she cries out in torn delusion.
I like the last phrase of your comment. Thanks!