unfull but full of loathing

If ghost, if whore, if virgin—same origin story:because X was a face too lovely, Y was a corpse in the lake.

Underneathevery pattern is a logicit's your privilege to ignore& yours is dreamsense yours is erasure

Blue river nameless, sky blank, pointless

Oh hawk, what's your damage—are you here to pick the bonesof the years I laid waste tolike I never loved a thing? So be it.

Understand I need these fragments. To tell it once is not enough.I have a hundred holy objects, everything looked upon, to break.Time will pass, time will pass me, attaching mile-marker threatsto every causeway.

Hello youare a vessel of vessels.