wee underhand 

tinker the keynotes of a deficiency with a wee underhand
heighten the exertion by magnitudes of ephemera
hide-and-seek the tumults of your well-worn dissolution
your distractions are treacherous — more so in their new wrappings
you evoke the predictable incompleteness of subaltern strident camouflage
and yet
you’ve become a remainder-man — anonymous and circumstantial

compulsory
inelastic
terse
attenuated
and
lost surrendering
to outrage
subterfuge

What I’m Reading:

I am damned, thinks Bunny Munro in a sudden moment of self-awareness reserved for those who are soon to die.

— Nick Cave / The Death of Bunny Munro