It started with the writing desk,
    my friends:

                                                                               the Green Wolf

                                                                               the White Tiger

                                                                                        and

                                                                              the Black Horse.


I huddled in the claw tub;
   thinking of familiar faces

                                                                                    within
                                                                                       the
                                                                                 f u r r o w;

                                                                         how I adored them
                                                                         smiling back at me.


I spoke to my father in the mirage;
   my reflection stared back at me

                                                                          his lips mirrored
                                                                                 my own
                                                                                    with

                                                                               r i d d l e s.


I spoke to my mother in the mirage;
   my reflection stared back at me

                                                                        her lips mirrored
                                                                                my own
                                                                                   with

                                                                             a n s w e r s.


The water
r i s e s
from    the    spring;

                                                                                      b
                                                                                      u
                                                                                      r
                                                                                      n
                                                                                      i
                                                                                      n
                                                                                      g

                                                                      the withering shadow

                                                                               drowning
                                                                       in    the    claw    tub.


The water
d r a i n s
from    the    body

                                                                                          c
                                                                                          h
                                                                                          i
                                                                                          l
                                                                    &n

c r a z y/h o r s e

I miss the crazy;
  the n u m b e r s
  clamored in static-
      aligned with
  the cerebral ghost.
  

It scratched
It gnawed.
It screeched.

It spoke
   through the dots
       scattered
          in
        silence.

I miss the crazy;
  the l e t t e r s
  fade behind images-
      aligned with
   the cerebral ghost.

It was blameless.
It was thoughtless.
It was limitless.

It spoke
   through the dots
       scattered
          in
        silence.

These n u m b e r s
and
l e t t e r s

fill my corpse,

left to the mercy
of the Senseless.

Behind the glass
          there are

                                                                                              b
                                                                                              r
                                                                                              o
                                                                                              k
                                                                                              e
                                                                                              n

                                                                                          clocks.


Reflections of a foolish,

                                                                                               s
                                                                                               i
                                                                                               c
                                                                                               k

                                                                                             girl.


Trapped in an adult body,
             the Artist l i n g e r s
      beneath her mother's eyes;
          
                                                                                                  c
                                                                                                  a
                                                                                                  p
                                                                                                  t
                                                                                                  i
                                                                                                  v
                                                                                                  e

                                                                                                 of

                                                                                     i m a g i n a t i o n.

Caught inside the vicarious film
            outside of r e a l i t y;
       you were my favorite drama

                                                                                                   e
                                                                                                  m
                                                                                                   b
                                                                                                   e
                                                                                                    l
                                                                                                    l