I cannot recall you gentle yet through your heavy love I have become an image of your once delicate flesh split with deceitful longings.
When strangers come and compliment me your aged spirit takes a bow jingling with pride but once you hid that secret in the center of furies hanging me with deep ******* and wiry hair with your own split flesh and long suffering eyes buried in myths of little worth.
But I have peeled away your anger down to the core of love and look mother I Am a dark temple where your true spirit rises beautiful and tough as chestnut stanchion against your nightmare of weakness and if eyes conceal a squadron of conflicting rebellions I learned from you to define myself through your denials