Heed this breath.
I want nothing more than your death,
in my mind of endless breadth-
lies no room for interchangeable personas.

Each like a mask, revealing and concealing
Expression and depression of character.
The clarity of ambiguity is rather healing
my past lassitude. My endearing solitude.

The view from up here is grandiose.
Pertaining not to a certain indulgence;
The ores of my throne are ones of perseverance,
of bruised rock polished to lighten my eyes.

Daring to extinguish flames of grace and womanity-
you are a fool.
An image of a cracked woman needs no validation
from the male gaze.
Prepare her horse for the highway of damnation.