i lie down as if soaked in the rain…curled up and cold.
i bark cold…knees held to my stomach.
i may very well die here..” —
As with nothing else, i am bitter the pardon of absence…and white dust and legs crawling and the night knows my room, the morgue.
There will be no eating and no blood curling, no stains…eye lashes whisper satin ghosts.
My hate is terrible, my colors bold.” —