Reading Eliot backwards helps

I read "Liminality and Self"
And discovered I was the Liminal
I read Ngugi
And I am Asham-ed
I forget which Laurence story I read
But it was me in it
Where's my mirror?
The forest is not my home

I can't unpack right now
I can see through the cracks in my hands
I am a spendthrift according to the oracle of the cracks

Coming full circle isn't round anymore
I will ask Ophelia her flowers
I know I am trying too hard
Reading Eliot backwards helps , then.

Cote-de-Ivorie vs. Argentina

First there was light.
An animal rhythm broken
The sea swollen and bruised
My thud thud thud
Five and ten and then it was too cool.
The sheen of carnality returned
Cloudy sight because of misses
The animal breathing loudly
24 and the bruise licks itself
Metallic taste left in us
32 and the smell overtakes me
It is the smell that drives them to despair
Bring white cloth soaked in water
81 cracks in the sheen
"You idiots!"
An outsider in the box
3 and the animal is slowing
But the mind is still cloudy
The smell returns with too renewed a strength

Deconstructing oneself is not the best thing to do. King Lear was happy. This Cordelia is a bit worried. Not unduly nor do I have a leaden tongue. My tongue twists around words and leaves me with a metallic taste. Tong-gew. How many years before I cease to be a site of contestation?
I never liked the Card sharper's daughter. She betrayed him for the monkeyfacedcrosseyed Manthan. I don't think she really loved him. Her embarrassment at being discovered stealing bananas might hold the key to her betrayal. Fie, fie. Black grams never seemed so apetizing.

LET THERE BE PROSE!

Snippets of a play I intend to write, am writing. But then I intend to do a lot of other things too.


T. If you have other questions than that if I use toilet paper, or not for that matter, then
please proceed. And the answer is, ‘No.’ (Pauses) For reasons that have to do with
hygiene rather than taking a political stance. But one could argue that it isn’t totally
devoid of some politics. After all, didn’t the unceremonious undertaking of a housewife
splitting an egg into two in the early morning hours inspire a war between the little
people?
U. Divining the initial question wasn’t that difficult, was it?
T. That's quite an incestuous question.
U. You need not answer that.
T. If I don't answer that, well, then what am I to answer to? Petitio Principii, on my part or
yours?

Little boxes, little boxes.
Daniel Powter shames me into goosebumps
The tree struck lightning should be a lightning struck tree
I want a drum I could beat into flight
Mr Royal Highness' ear has been poisoned
Royalty is my wrong allusion
Ten and counting years since
The hunters brought the heart
My yellowed memory
Their yellowed memories
Pockets of mointeres unchanging
Work grumpy, work sleepy,
Work dopey.