Episteme

Slowly I close my eyes

Swallow my spit, spitt, spirit

Lips, and tongue. Tongue the

Words of the world, the physics of

Phenomenon, keep it on the tip of

My ghastly ghostly tongue. For on

My tongue I print my mind, my

Feeble, ugly mind. Heartbeat.

You can feel it in my chest, my heart

To yours. It is yours. Slowly it grows in

Unanatomical size. Swell, inflame, inflame.

Grow in size my tongue my mind my spirit

My body and the

Truth

Comes up on me impressing its

Almighty hand on my soul like a

Smouldering fire and the

Ardent caress of the truth creeps up

On every crevice of my trembling

Soul like fire and everything’s

On fire because the data

Is not adding up, and she

Keeps telling me no, no, never,

Not good enough, you can’t find me,

You really can never find me, no

And she taunts, her pristine, undying beauty

Branded in the white sclera of

My tired eyes, my tired tired eyes,

Come closer, she says,

And I come to her,

And I come closer and closer to her,

Shows me a little bit, and a little bit more,

A little more until I can’t take it anymore,

And then I reach out, my quick, heavy arms

Frantically, hopelessly grasping

For her to only

At the end of the day

Have been a mirage.