Asinine Poem by Leon Moon

"Do I create a world here,
Macerate your flesh
Or gauge out remnants of confusion
To a template for reflection; -
-Your Purpose? "

Nothing has sold.
Overdue, hardly aged, the only aspect of
identity left is my desire to be honest.

Everything is equal.
For Who, I lead humanity, riding intention
hidden by the fight to sleep.

Heart, spectators sit, decaying futures, admiring the aquarium
- They imitate the fish inside by resistance, silence
- The fish imitate them through them, and only them

My soul crushed,
Perfectly presentable,
I haven't grown an inch.