Hospital Parking LotVirgo, Libra, ScorpioHospital Parking Lot
it's a progressive descent. The voice of the undertow miles from the sea, spoken by birches and planes in the balmy, sickness night.
Me, you, the autumn dressed one and the prideful one, none of us so evil but it came anyway.
It comes your way, no matter what, whirring (softly spoken) in the
breath of all that hums,
it runs its course - not under standing, not pretending to understand.
Not wanting to understand, farther yet from sickness: it's a progressive ascent. Scorpio, Libra
Mizuka's LoopDrops her gaze Mizuka, violently indolentMizuka's Loop
holding tight a loop between her legs and her mind's I tense, demeaning and ever scheming how
to be a star, or at least, how to cut one down to her size.
In the glicine milk and honey of
her extremities, those she whispers to
at night – time, there: what
novel cross did she find? Set on her weight like grave(l)stone caressing the stove's black eyes
(her parents away) fixing dinner for two, three counting her
accruing body strings of flame.
Mizuka's loop is both loved an
Hello
--
"millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy sunday afternoon." -susan ertz
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