This dwelt in me who does not know me now, where in her labyrinth I cannot follow, advance to be recognized, displace her terror; I hold my heartbeat on my lap and cannot comfort her. Tonight she is condemned to cry out wolf or werewolf, and it echoes in the gulf and no one comes to cradle cold Narcissus; the first cell that divided separates us.
Here on the drawing board fingers and noses leak from the air brush maggots lie under if i should die before if i should die in the back room stacked up in smooth boxes like soapflakes or tunafish wait the undreamt of.