Not written anything for a while and felt the need to put something down yesterday. So I offer some pretension derived from a discussion over Derrida.
What words accumulate
waiting the furrowed attention of a reader;
their stasis –
How long must we live in presence and absence?
Will we never be realised,
are we always to be deferred and left reserved?
Such is our sentence.
Read, un-read, forgotten.