Reckoning

I sabotaged my eight-millimeter childhood. I never knew Sartre But I contorted my latex face, Burying my nothingness in family films. My child was scripted to be ugly, skipped over In comic relief. Only recognizable as Menoetius, My only animation was insolence. I believed nothing in myself, I knew nothing. I sought my masquerade in Metaverse avatars, Really just 2D analog shadows, Swaying waves of gray on ashen tv tubes. Without convictions, I was convicted. My craven rudeness landed me In squalid wreckage, The debris of my dormant sea, Forsaken a million or more times, Rebuffed and scorned, I succumbed to my dense exhaustion. I shut down where sleep had no form, Where space-time is an illusion. Some hint of dream touched and aroused me. Some anamnesis so much greater than any containment! I awakened sweaty, wretched, and authentically flawed, savoring the sudden phenomenal enigma, Ready to learn the endless patterns of all the passions and sciences.