Four concepts of the apocalypse:
“I own something of worth.”
“I”, as if singularly self possessed as
the insolated, isolated, separated, I.
“Owned”, as if I really control
…. anything.
“Something” as if
a separation/identification
implies the truth of me.
“Worth”, as the value terrain
that I made up
is the contextual pretend of me.
Is this the hidden sabotage
of a lifelong
imprisonment subterfuge
as my self-directive?
“I own something of worth.”
A remark I could make out loud,
in public
and get an affirmative response.
It would appear
that I am a member of species
that somewhat consciously colludes,
even against itself . . .
Is this a product
of a grandiose
collective myopic solipsism?
(or what?)
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