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The compulsion to survive
is a hindrance in disguise

I am a witness
to this body;
I ear witness to it;
I am its anonymous witness

I follow its codes of conduct,
its jerky leaps of pranks

The sum of its organs
is my perception of them,
but perception is a reflex
in a seagull's eye
high above the lighthouse cliff

The Eastern haiku moon
rests without choice
high on the firmament

The organs gather
in a collective effort
within my hypothetical abode,
in pearl after pearl
in the night's passage
through the ocean's banquet of hulls;
Titanic
a sumptuous twelve-course communion;
the moon
forever narcissistic
in the surface high above;
time measured in oxygen atoms
in a meticulously sealed coffin
where everything, as it should,
ceases,
on an underwater stage
in the world's gaze;
five detached from the world
on a circumnavigation out of time,
journeying through the cold humidity of misfortune
in a stench of vomit, urine and feces;
$250,000 per person

The thoughts that roam
are faded deep-sea fish without eyes


© Ingvar Loco Nordin 2023