*re-- -wrote this in an abandoned actual old style sanitarium*
through the refLectory, with.in reasons’ sound proof
walls; of hysteria, i laugh out spindly
tethered wisps, my spider’s abdomen
bulging with.oughts to spin, s.pin. sp.in. . ..
i beg.in. as a be.in.g woe.b[ego]tten,
while the friar who rings the quasi bells
chants of ME[in]; MinE
own meager soul dis.robes more than
just flesh.wounds, pounds of
filth pile up near my feet, disguised as freshly laundered
faces, i have so many. .
[she stares me up and down
the hall; who is she to look at me?]
in conquest, arrested, my heart is long overgrown
with hope for a nightgown.
cantankerous catastrophe looms
and she has woven me with our Every hair;
she cleverly braids me tight to her, despair
agonizes and ecstasies blush the room.
where for art is my Michelangelo?
i hear my hands giggle, extending towards the requiem.pty
ceiling, and i fathom [from below]
forever i would lay beneath him,
for a Sistine kiss of ang.el.oquence; a wet
rouge shadow of lips; hymn and me a// alone.
at last to paint undulating spines, the spire
of which.ever inferno i choose
li vernicerà nudi sulle colonne, sulla mia signora,
sulla fede dei sans e sul timore
he says, my helled angel; o
how he has a s.way with my skin, st.ripped
from the minor archipelagos to place in ruins ..
[she is not smiling anymore]
but i can read her like an unwritten book,
brailled eclipses and e)(ipses extrapolated by her look
and i could, care.less about the whore. .. … .. ..
i left my playthings in the closet, the close.s.t thing to trust i have is
put aside for Frankenstein; a solitary monster
in the making, but this ma(d)king i believe in; knows
me, tells me, smells me
by my name. .. and the creature re[s]igns
to his laboratory, to abort the story before i begin
to touch, him, much of him
is me. ..
in a paper mache straightjacket divined by an impaled rosary fear
[what will she think of next?]
…and my schizophrenic at the piano
bangs out her frenzied crescendo
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