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She Comes From Nowhere

The roots and branches of aged care

By Edward SwaffordPublished about a month ago Updated about a month ago 1 min read
Image by Zarina Khalilova from Pexels.

Hello? I know you, please come back?

​Pusillanimous walk-right-past-me-no!

​ ​ Lost and lignified, my knees graaaaaze

​ ​ Shuffling at a dilatory pace unto peace

​ ​ ​ Blurry and blue neverminded never-care

​ ​ ​ ​ Figments never seem to stop? Orientate

​ ​ ​ ​ ​ Me to this plighted paucity of wherever

​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​​ ​ I reside? A saber-rattle subjection space?

🕊︎

An abstemious Avernus?¿?¿

Solstices still roost beneath my mortal

​ ​ Mottled, flushed, forgotten, unwashed

​ ​ ​ Sept skin in Lamina low-light purgatory

​ ​ ​ ​Leeched color, fractals of shunned gray

​ ​ ​ ​​ ​ Seldom reflect “HELP” in SpAsMoDiC

​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​​ Torsional Tophet, skewed suborn cycles

🕊︎

Of fucking negligence

Visionless sidelines starve retinue sight

​ ​ So-so-so out of mind’s brusque mindset

​ ​ ​ ​ When minds wither, it’s never free will

​ ​ ​ ​ ​ Or free-willed condign reproof in cells

​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​​ ​ Repeating myself-REPEATING myself

​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​​ ​ ​ ​ Within winnow weltanschauung walls

🕊︎

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She never thought she would get old

She never thought she would rot in "care"

Now, she never thinks, amid thoughtless acts

Image by Zarina Khalilova from Pexels.

(c) Edward Swafford 2025

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Free Versesad poetry

About the Creator

Edward Swafford

Hello! I'm an Australian writer, copywriter, and healthcare professional. I've written on Medium for over two years and also run Black Coffee Creative on Substack (over 900 subscribers).

Edgy syntax is my bailiwick.

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Comments (2)

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  • Sandy Gillman23 days ago

    This is devastating. It feels uncomfortably real.

  • Aarsh Malik28 days ago

    Your fractured, syntactically splintered lines mirror the disorientation of aging with remarkable precision. The cascading indentation and shifting rhythms create a physical sense of unraveling consciousness.

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