conflate

•pond-seeking sir what sadness do you heap upon my eyes / the weariness sinks into my bones / oblate & undone / repeated ingestions of your misery elide / have driven me to stress / suicide your stockbroker gig / conflate your delusions into one great drunken indifference / your shadow has overtaken me / my gannet’s billet is done for / drink of the datura thorn apple / forget•

What I’m Reading:

Let the fog’s calls
go to voicemail. Tell the fog
to eat shit, burn the fog’s letters.

— Ruth Madievsky / “Fog”