What is in a dream, that I should dream awake, breathlessly and sorrowfully? I who has yet to live.
Days push me around and each second weighs in on me- judging the flicker in my eye- I am not a woman of substance.
I have fallen in love with many a dead men… Oh how they light up the beat room of my existence !
They do not cringe at my awkward aura, twist my thoughts into ugly monsters, or laugh when the earth buries me.
When poverty rides my back, they borrow light from the sun and salt from the sea so that I may stand straight.
They make me believe that even if nothingness ruptures inside, the universe may still breath through me …