Drain

I do not know what left me here
The bathtub dry, but wet is me;
Neither clean nor planning to be.
Each grouted tile a grim reminder
Of time before when sleep
Was not dripping its slow torture.
Though what I hear from days
When I first first jumped in this shower,
There was very little dirt but much uncleanliness.
And though I still know not what has left me here,
Senseless, wet, bounded by tears
I am here, draining.

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Actuary

Isometrically,
you may know me,
intimately.

You may know me,
intimately,
through isometrics.

You may,
if you will,
know whatever you want
to know
about me.

Though what you may know,
about me,
may not
coincide
with
who I be.

Now,
what you know,
and who you think
I am,
is,
intimated on screens;
in binary numbers,
scattered in dreams.
But these words do not mean.
They do not medium.
They do not intervene.
They are the person
I believe
I am trying to be
That you
do not know.


The Modern World After Period

.  .  –

Before.
And.
After.
The.
dot.
I.
Stopped.