It's my choice to be beautiful. It's my choice to be ugly. And it's my choice to decided what those words actually mean.
Numbered are the daysof hunger stricken straysa woman's curving tastea paper police state.
Cut lose your ties with expectation. Your dreams are charlatans, your memories, stalemating quarks. Listen only to the pull of your atoms and follow the discordant hum of your personal entropy.
My mind: a thousand hungry daughters,my harlot heritage.Marbles: lost, no rescue search.Your heart: blooming thorns,and a stolen grocery cart.
Here's to adrenaline. Here's to dramatic abandon of protocol. Here's to treasured pain and purple rain. Here's to chasing our souls, burning across to sky. Here's to drinking the ash as it falls, and...
I like my thingshurried and haunted. Night teadarktime. Sacred geometry, secret geometrypetal-flame whisper: I am here, and you aren't.
You crawled inside myribs to die. Giant becomes squirrelbecomes a dirt-wet girlfeverishly alive.
You were, arecactus tourism. meeting you: granularfractals borrowed from oceans.