She Comes From Nowhere
The roots and branches of aged care

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

(c) Edward Swafford 2025
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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.


Comments (2)
This is devastating. It feels uncomfortably real.
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.