Coherence snorted at itself.
Together at what? Last?
Fading is the kind of invited
inevitability that shading
defined a little too darkly.
Back at birth, to cohere had
generational meaning.
Now, in and out of breath,
decohere is a heavy Damocles,
a sword stuck deep in the desk.
That pen is never coming out,
unless it's to spray ink out of
its rended ending.
Words once flowing, dry.
Sentences, once themselves,
fragmentary.
Paragraphs, once all, none.
A spine make break or it
may crumble and leave the
body a puddle in its former self.
Roman Ryan 