Self Death

Soulmate, dividend.
Lover of nothing, liver

of life leaving, daughter
of Ungoliant and Nought. Yet

leeching sweetness
from the air.

Such is the toothache's will.
Supplanting

the patriotic devices
of Enlightenment with

magic, we are a well-fed
throng of penitents; livery lifters,

india ink drinkers,
takers of popped-off buttons

from the half-pint mason jar
where things like that are kept.


Absurdity quadrupled,
love leavened,

maven exemplified
unto unintentional self death.