2004
the other residing in the gray mass
product of desperation the nubbiest of veils she wears she wants to mingle in her revere of the living dead that particular portion of space where pitiful attempt is made at guarding them prisoners sublime swiftly cajoling them into these pews of pretentious bliss she is the only blind who sees in the depths of the gray mass rests the gate to the placable it moons her over the edge of her pitfall educes the dormant vest, aware the master of her being lies decadent, poignant feeble, yet omnipotent…watching sipping of the infamous goblet at every turn inexhaustible infallible in its idiocracy deflecting the righteous seeking fortitute in her seclusion to conquer and justify her confinement by quelling her thirst, famine and sorrows to solidify deturpation of its own verdict make that her only truth a ray falls through the open crack she sees “the light,” her wings go wide tu n’est peut pas idiot! tu es seule! freedom having assumed its nonism state now bathed in a transparent steely dread she crawls to safety, suplicating redemption numbness possessing, taking ownership as she dubiously reaches, begs, thinks she needs again and again product of desperation back at the malevolent womb back at the malevolent womb she lies her familiar cocoon, her nest, her deathbed
