Lo behold! Let’s go and vend,
Threads that took me eons to rend.
I must, share myself with the world,
On and off it has been my friend.
The skin takes time before falling off,
Every incision, someone comes to mend.
Yet somehow, the scars stand apart,
An archive of each, curve and bend.
The journey to purgation still unfinished,
The destination a delusion a dead dead end.
Scribbling on sheet, surfeited tales,
And these vain verses “Mirage” shall rend.