(no subject)
There are beads upon the glass she lay sewn, between her hips and thighs. Trinkets which were woven in tightly- bees that make no honey. Drones, we call them her male counterparts. Drones spin wildly around her tail ready to take hold- once we cried while the light parted, spinning cones of despair, failure in- the drone survives, succeeding- the drone dies. His insides are ripped, abdominal tissues, but he must succeed, and in this he meets his death. The queen is the vulture, where women are concern we must be gentle, we must be meek. Lioness devours her prey. I am sitting on the couch, A) now I must enter, all ways that point within point towards. B) there is a figure on the couch facing me. now we talk, rather we are watching, I think of glass smashing, there is egg on the carpet, spilt yolk, spilt flesh, blood pours when I watch him, C) moon which births femininity, women who bleed have their cycles like the moon. Twice I slapped the rock on which I was laid- twice now third, then I woke. Mirror, internal, he is watching me again. There in the corner is my doctor, my part flesh, part blood, all that he is I have found my twin in. He comforts me on the appearance of (B). Now we return to (A) where I am seated at the couch once more and facing me is this tiny figure, silhouette, burnt out of- because he lacks? Then it swivels, my shadow burns darker, we return to episode (B) where he continues to watch me. Here we are, days which pass one another, days which lap on, one to the other- fumbling about. Reaching out I touch a lap pool where my image shifts beneath. I turn but there is no one behind me, am I so sure? I see there, fierce, light slants at an angle because it is being reflected by? Make an equation now. The light bounces because, there are light cones because, there are rays because, now you walk in, and the room beams because-