Trash Cocoon

Even your signature has forged you

Even your signature perfume

Has stopped reproducing tiny perfumes

You are your own miniature

In this labyrinth of impeccable world

You swallowed your own threads

to meet baby minotaur

In the center of the maze

Always recentering gravity

You felt the pushing force

But there is no pushing

You were three seasons away

From the end the finale

You only wanted the finale

To read the text credit

Curling to a roll

Your paper skin and paper heart

Could not stand the rain

It was artificial rain didn't we?

You draw a clock

Made of clocks made of clocks

And call it a clock tower

It was only arranged mechanism

Like everything else

Where you see the minotaur

He was only a GM

Dressed in GM clothes

"So you were here"

"I could be nowhere else"

"You could be anywhere"

"Anywhere is not you"

The conversation stops

Because you pulled the trigger

And shot down a bird

From I last saw you

The bird was still alive.

August 2025

By Aran Meredith