tenuous

In that horror of impurity, defeat, I have died
rejecting the promise with the premise.
In the horror of purity, deciept, i have died
chocking on one of my own bones.
In this impunity, horror, like a sheet
of whiteness comes with its fresh scent
of death where i wait like a child in a corner
punished to death.
I am more
than you imagined. Where the word
broke with the finger you stepped on, i am alive
beneath the crack; living a death you never
foresaw.
When you feel me under you boot, you slip.
Who do you think i am talking to. About. Certainly not with.
Talking with does not happen in accusations, which
are a last .



Once there was a promise of fit in a white dress.
I hung it
on
a blue hanger tighter than a noose it seemed.
The swan neck of the hanger promised great sorrow. I saw it
pass me under over against and through like a woman speared, through the
back
of her legs.
I waited under the train where the music had passed. They say
there is no thread between paganism and religion, mysticism and philosophy
judaism and communism, they say there is no coinsedense between
quantum and structure, but