it isn't the meaning, it's the glue

By (a) sitting in the window, and
(b) writing a poem about it. This
kind of self-centered poem is a
bit exhibitionist and I tried to get
that across too, by starting with
bold capitals, and shifting to small,

it isn't the meaning, it's the glue.

i step into my harness and split the
spoils to shriek: "split the spoils: i'm
a nullity slut!", "swap sweetened
smugs": i'm sorry this is my most
pressing concern,
i leave them hanging
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~?