Antimatter

My Poetry

Tenebrific, serpentine negation
Vacant presence, eidolon deception
Senseless, desolate, voiding perception
Presence itself is nought but space lay bare
Limboid, non-Baryonic energy, ninety-five percent primality
We are naught, o’ veritably
Isolation perturbs relation between my own cellular connection
How then is there yearning for chemical affection with evanescent ‘other’,
When other perturbs all that is not?

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