Twisted; the wrath grows stronger
“To purge is to breathe, to bleed is to live”

(multiple endings to a mundane tragedy)

I am living. Am I living?
Sore eyes; burning throats; bleeding arms.

Ardor is death, as in dying. The end.
Weeps. Somberly, she cries into her pillow.

(I’ve felt like this before…I feel it now)

the mirror is my enemy
the mirror is my enemy

Dearest friend,
I live no longer to breathe the dismal air
I stare no longer out a desolate window into
the bleak tragic landscape of the world that is I.

(my hand sweats; the fires blaze; I am lost)

the feeling is ubiquitous, I can’t escape
I am screaming, can’t you hear me?

Subdued by the reverberating sound of life
Lingering on the streets as I sit here alone

Fallen Asleep on the wooden floor
Of her studio apartment.

She sleeps. (Goodnight)

8-1-04 _ 1:18 am