the (un)deathness of doing

 

the anxiety of doing nothing

in the swarming ever-plagued will

with imperative in the multitude of doing

doing-doing

working

feverish 

with meaning-making deliria

doing doing

for actually nothing 

Nothing, our mother

doing, to avoid nothing 

is your master

we’re a child, 

a nanny, a slave

an orphanage

to their succulent affairs

we’re a multitude of nothing

born out of

the abyss of matters

laboring machine

to a breath of meaning

starving

and breathing

inhaling fantasy factory,

exhaling the abyss of moves,

of nothing to a thing by doing

of doing to nothing by a thing

of a thing to doing by nothing