whine with french

what I set up for myself comes together and then it falls apart
together and apart
together and apart
like mini stages set for these small plays
haphazard shrines
or gestures at the altar
first empty
then cluttered
then empty
then cluttered
rhythmically irregular
not at all like waves
or seasons
or music
nor intentional
I’m not that interested in most of it
finding it all too difficult
difficile
and useless
inutile
and lonesome
partaking neither of movements
nor manifestos
nor main streams
for
I’m not what I am
and I am what I
am not