painting june 13 2024, writing october 6 2025
"We were together for twelve years and he still left me out of the will"
Chanting the pains of a civilization,
of a burdened society filled with witches and grotesque figures,
clamoring at stop lights and overturned orange buckets.
Can you describe the last time you felt an external movement?
Do any images appear to you in your sleep?
Will you answer me, "yes", or "no"?
When the questions stop
so will his heart.
And it is nobody's fault,
but I will feel it too.
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