languid touch oozes from small claws; they do not yet know the wonder of keratin my body is no temple. it has been harrowed by years of disillusionment racked by anticipation oh, the notion of some epagomenal redeemer to lift my vessel from damnation! tears stream heavy and hot soul is devoured what remains is a moon-sliver; a sylphlike cadaver, an effigy of a bone ****** dry of marrow from the rib came life