That Which Is Forbidden From The View Of An Insomniac
In the dark hours, my head over sized and thick
thinking my neck would be crushed under its weight I dared not
a glance behind me, afraid I'd hear the snap and then
Calm In A Box
Calm in a Box
11: 59 the black steams in a cup on the stand beside me from a box labeled 'CALM' in large letters and I can only hope that the blend of the black will do the trick:
The First Draft Of My Soul
The First Draft of my Soul
*God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it? —Nietzsche, The Gay Science, Section 125
Sour Dough (for my great grandmother, Icie)
Thin, cotton, flowery day dress
Pretty, Like That?
Is it easier to be coded and hard to decipher?
You can be labeled...