A poem to Eliot from another Hollow man

Wisps of my cognition,
float like ashes from a fire,
burning that which is already burnt.

The membranic fluids leak into the ocean,
dirty sewage water infesting,
and corroding,
and what is dynamic becomes static.

somewhat of a effect and cause relationship,
rather than cause and effect.

Constant decay,
the decay being static,
and the decaying-dynamic.

And the world is still round,
and we still breathe and exist.

The mind and the world,
metaphorically obvious representations of each other.

And we are neurons,
and we are synaptic,
and we are the chemicals,
and somewhat the balance.

The world is to end with not a bang,
a bang,
a bang
but indeed a whimper.