Monstrous Emptiness

In the center of it all is an absence
a pocket of air at the core of the Tootsie Pop
we are accumulations
around us
wrapped up in blankets of taste and culture
constructed by our works and possessions
so thoroughly ensconced
in the collection
of our words, actions, and passions
that we believe the ephemera
is us
who we are
but in an instance of annihilation
we discover we are nothing
an abscess in the tooth of a beast
a slobbering carnivorous unconsciousness
devouring the Earth
belching our undistinguished destiny

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