It’s crystal clear. After weeks and weeks of pondering I now understand what the thing is. You know the thing. It’s the what you “ did our own of ” in the 70’s. It’s what’s sitting on the table next to your notebook,
It’s the Thing.
It’s something, it’s nothing. It’s anything, and it’s scathing.
Badmouthing a plaything that’s loathing it’s value of a farthing. Smoothing and soothing and teething and tithing for the privilege of girthing before berthing.
It’s breathing, and bathing, and mouthing nothingness. It’s sheathing and wreathing, it’s unsheathing and unwreathing.
It’s the thing.