I am a dissipative system

Not evolved ape, not developed cro-mag, not Neanderthal

Yet am a creature, even to her

There is silence, stillness

Brought by a stalker

She hunts for me

I am the bile she requires

For her beauty

The delicate decay she needs to seed

A sylvan cycle of extinction

There is only the next provider

I was born a provider

I have a purpose

Her carrion care and caress will leave me clean

I will pass through her and leave no trace of the passing

Save a worming flush, fed by my elegant decay

An autopoietic expression of post-structuralism

Yet I wander and she sees nothing poetic of me

She sees the winsome seduction of my withering and claims it

A charm she cannot create

As she can birth and nurture only ruin

It is my rot which gives her refinement

See how I have danced with with your decadence

See the grace I have given as

I dawn from body to dust

Long have I waited for you

Here is my life

Here is my decay

Here is your thing of beauty

I gift this to you