0- The womb.
In the third week vision becomes clear...
I thought I had
buried the remaining bitterness...
Walls etched in acidic nightmares
coat the outer rim of my mind...
"You have to burn in order to shine"
_ this was a burning moth susurrating...
I stand at my window
and gaze...
It was long ago
and memories now...
butterflies
made a tomb of...
Good morrow world
The sun is bright...
Let sleeping thoughts
fester, give them no credence...
You’ve spent summers
in servitude, hearing only...
You’re full of
emptiness; how someone...
Often,
what I write on the paper is a letter...