swift critical judgement, howland winds

suddenly compelled to mark my existence
with a pile of cigarette butts
over 30,000 intellectual sun ripened individuals
are harrowing self-effacing
I have taken down the mirrors
so as to further progress my novel
further delay any personal development
for the sake of art, I claim
and I have lost all sense of self, selves on shelves
alphabetically listed and directoried
I search for your middle name
and for 15 articles regarding cinema novo
and further my understanding of what is new
through novels in arctic winds that pass
when you sweep through this hallway
with impenetrable, syntactically ambiguous eye contact
a study in sexual vagueness
a university of near misses
has educated me on the theories relevant to impersonal loss
and I have turned my life into a really simply syndicated feed
of influences so as to better ignore my own ideas
and become a reflection
of what I aim to become through self-destruction
suddenly compelled to fall