the version of night shifts as each person unfolds within mind what they see it mutates as time proceeds a contagion of the eye makes her sad face regal with its pure and true beauty clean line and side cast gnawing fear makes her soft skin a sandpaper of insecurity's and her sexuality a landmine filled no mans land she moves restlessly in her seated position spreading and folding herself like a spastic lotus flower like a wasp confused by butterfly's
the version of night shifts once again and the two of you stand in the narrow shadows at the edge of a vast pitted concrete slab the air is thick and greasy with tropical heat she is **** you cannot help but to reach over and touch she only watches your hand thin smile on her thin lips inside your your separate minds you each hold separate conversations silently imagine the dreamlike responses the version of night strains as she slowly dresses and you silently walk side by side into the the darkness back to the noise room back to the chair she cried in back to the floor you feared
the version of night is fluid like a infected river it flows thru her veins as she injects another dose of crying and coughs breathing heavy you sit cross legged at her feet an apostle to the teaching that beauty is no measure of destiny its only a means a student of the humanities isolated and afraid by a spastic lotus flower a wasp confused by butterfly's
she batters down the defenses contagion of perceive then process that becomes reality governs her motive it mutates as time proceeds lies repeated become fact because they were spoken so much they defied truths razor fact becomes fiction as truth is distorted in the crucible of think think think think think as truth is hammered clean of impuritys and worked by the hands of the mind into a better package a more palatable lie
help me help her the night is unsympathetic as she injects cough touch sweat panting for abundant air this is a killing cycle