Battery crucibilums. Épreuve. Light staples the individual.
Remotion kernels reunion.
Alkali services and Malsenior

I see no end in a silent thicket no one sees me.
The thorns quiet.
Why?

Yes.
Elevate my head and rotate my neck.
A blue twig blue with age and flame.
Blue for the message I did not receive.
A sound is etched.
Carnivals full of life, a maiden's fair breast.
Ancient tablature.
Fitting the lens.
Moving filth with tilt and focus.
An oar for each digit.
And each digit pulled from ore.
Children of a prometheal defecation.

P.m.


Perceiving all I can touch.
Marvel.
Cut the red carpet in factories.
A continent.

Divide and substract from zero.
If incorrect, rewrite and remember.

The heads and their jowls sag together under fluffy tempered weather.

Strung together by pearls as pearls.
In pearls.

A snake coiled between reef and coral.

I imagined and then begged for more pain.

The tape repeats that I imagined and begged for more pain.

But in the end did I imagine or did I beg more pain?

Petals fall.
The machine comfortable with its operator.

A hiss in the belly.
As in olden days the yellow humor is drained.
Is this self harm, is so be ye machine or man.

A woman knows no pain. Reject from census. Illustrate.
A butterfly found in a volcano.

Neigh.
Neigh for dark clouds all colts and mares whisper.

Just a cloud. As any other thing.

An argument stitched into this plane.

The past becomes a wound, weeping and gurgling.

Features of the brain. Festered.

The ears not quite level.

A fever.
A flick of the wrist.

The pinky nail holding a *****'s protection.

Catastrophe spelling itself as ***.


A petal falls there at night.
In the place where delegates made children weep.

Petals where tears learned to fall quiet and then silent.

I suffocate my brain with gin.
Again.
I'm seashores and tin.
I bend.

Proximity alert.
The priest becomes megaphone. Spilling my guts when the circuit breaks.

Privacy. Harmony.

Quickly decode the differences.

Hollow bones.

Betsow a vision.
I ask to receive.
I feel the answers.
Too light to break this Earth's atmosphere.
Too late.
Behold,my vision.

The infant sleep of Mother Earth.
A great extinction.
A man is born with grey in his heart.
His thoughts unformed.

A ridge of her leaking core.
A beach with sterilizing water.
Meeting and leaving.
A pool of molten glass.
A lake of cold translucent glass.

A rock to fracture the truth.
A crack forms.
A club is pulled from there.

Echo. Echo. Echo.

A subwoofer and an altar.
Decorations and a substance to make it so holy.
Thou preacheth and thou washeth away.

The ball drops and I become a man, I survive cancer.

I begin to wear dresses.
Examining myself in the magic mirror.
Wondering what it is that makes the mythos.
The mythos involving difficulty and strife when speaking of womanhood.

Staring at the ceiling brings a thought. Wipe the mote from my eye. A pale horse approaches. A scab remains unhealed. A bruise is formed. A question.

Thus...

I'm asked how it went.

And I wonder what it was I chose to share.

What was it I chose to separate my memory from?

I refrain.

A drink in my left hand and a drink in my right hand.

The door buckles. Machiavelli. Police. Jilted exes.

I am afraid for one half second.
I forget for one half second that I am calm and tranquil water.
I forget for a second that a beast rests at the base of my skull.

I remember to be grateful.

I look down at my pens and smile.

I look up and sever the necks which once felt so proud and so soft.

Tearing limbs from sockets I find peace.
I find love.
I find undstanding.

And I can't stress enough this cadence.

One half of a whole.

Soap.
Apologies.

Roll over and take pictures of me.

Roll over and feel a fork in my neck.

Oh so this is morning.

I'll eat you raw.

I love you too.

Basking within the sticks and stones.

Salon.

After the saline.
Now how does that sound?

I want you to follow.
Blindly.

Watch the moth's escape.
A twist of a doorknob.

But we watch.

I grit my teeth. Explain to you these are burns and wound marks.

One or the other and I discover.

Explain to you it needn't be thy way

Ate quickly and explained quicker.

Setting things on the ground is a tricky dive.

One sees the water. And the water sees it again.

So break it. And destroy your poise.

Waiting waiting and laying under the stars with two eyes.

My one and my other.

See now?

See I've grown.

Sleeping in safes. Becoming responsible to avoid the count of clicks and the flicks of wrists.

Speaking of...

Speaking out loud.

Speaking alone I guess.

I'll watch my cigarette disappear and hope a clone is born.

Now. Now now now.

Everyone's dead.

He said he watched the stars watch over you.

Stammering but now pointing.

Stars fall. And even that became an example of me doing wrong.

Is this silence?

Don't hold your breath baby. Use it because there is that chemical I'm lacking from you.

Is this silence?

No it is me just being alone.

We don't do this or that and when we do, it becomes that it wasn't this or that.

There is the smile I carried alone for so long.

But yours is the smile I coerced from the steps.

Leather green *** slave

And on soother days I perform future's work.

God's deeds.

Breathing heavy
hoping yet
we are
breathing light
in dreams


A lullaby of sorts

That might make things a bit clear and if it doesn't

Well then that this is okay

Face staying warm and risk growing from my ribs

I wonder how colors taste to the heroes I've burned

Idols

Heroes and idols.

Stand in my little monster
Is this the sequence of regret and tragedy

Or is it now as someone said once

Sobering I call it these days

What is it?

The feeling of not composing the self
only involving your belch in the chorus


On the bus line I grew.

Temporal
Temporal
Temporal

And I cry
Long ago required my mind to separate tears from my eyes

A dry hobble and a glance over my shoulder
My hair perfect
My lines hidden a verse 1 space over

That's perfect I say

Reciting the image line of bloated pug carcasses and skin I've made in case of nights like tonight

End quote
I want out I want out with a bang

My blood grew
Flooded the hallway and now my thoughts of suicide dissolve

Father is it me now?
Am I that sound the crunch of glass meeting wood on elegant wood flooring?

Or father...


Am I the cherry asked for but left undigested

Alone in a trashcan
And then again alone in a dumpster
And simply waiting for a kitten to find me
And fill it's own belly
And finding in the morning
I've Teman not touched
Cowering under sunshine
Discovering a cowl and cane

I discovered locomotion
My reach far exceeding its grasp


Living with this world but very unsure if I belong to this blur

Do I belong to this blur?
Am I alone in this void?
Will I die *****?

Watch a piece of myself die.

Blue is now the future. I wait.

It is the one who held a key and
fell to Earth.

A fool. A coward and now a
priest.

What horror must I fund for your
world to collect me?

I'm unsure when security made
its way into my pants.

Lesions and twenty two packets
of salt.

A man and his automatic
   revolver.

A subscription to Penthouse.

But the most wonderful time is
my own.

Proof that hard work and tireless
effort yields errors.

Quoting your favorite movies and
collecting different tastes in
fetishes.

A fetus and a geisha collecting
dust in a temple.

What pulls the thread from the
wheel must remain untouched.

It is like a season of poor
choices.


But what must go stays unsaid.


Example.

A group of people, forgiven now.
A couple, elderly but with child.
A man behind the street unseen but from one degree. Another man alone and staying inside. And what could that be inside a person's garage.
Forgiven  
Moving on
In quietly asked hush3s a
nd the performance begin s

The couple hiding and asking others about things with state men's attache ed
Pull me in a huneed pulls and I then discover amateur
Ambidextrous men some women
You saw the water when realizing

to chase gone


The bluest rounds of something moving again. And then something else moved alone
And then I believe it to be something

A stranger thing to be sure and then later on a newer a tore opens.

Maybe on this do range thing a few digerremy things Wil happen

D then a new
Maybe the is a friend in there
Or
Maybe there is a f fiend out yhwrr.
#Tragedy

Shivering paint cowered and dry

Peeling the witnesses back and taking the dry fruit from inside

So what was is now a blistered and simpler time

Humming a tune to understand and believe a strange omen exists out there

In the blue darkness and in the reddish orange shadows a stranger washes his lovers' hands

What could be, I wonder and what will be

So a blue tricycle sits alone
An infant's coffin collecting grass

The soul bubbles and graves are pushed outward

A blossom most appropriate for the New Year

And tonight they stayed, spoke of their dreams and crushes

One speaks of a vacuum


One far away dissolving stars and thinning water filled moons

The future is a pile of sand
Sad and uncollected

The water becomes oil and eyes close and leave the head to sleep




#Tragedy

and i crawl with these degrees
and i dress real casual

and i break your pretty jaw

and in a cell i nurse my heavy wounds

on my chiseled shoulder

and i sit

think
'
wonder how

you got away with

it

wonder how im alive

because love

kills all

an we watch light become our thiughts
our thighs

our times

her thighs
and movement

a movement and

i dont know

but i know tonight

i hsve

been laid

with urgency

without me

mos importantly

you were not the he

the stitch in her

melody

but i shall

but i couyld

tell you who thinks of me at night
but no

not tonight

i feel mydelf coliiding in the  orning

with the things i gave myself to

laswt night

'
a bill

a fold

a fold in my innocence

slavery and prostitution

wrinkles of the plastic
over the mattress, the mountains
their faces blue
and their
shadows
something arousing.

is your head between your heart?
now along the letters
burrow emotions.

i am hearing feedback from the thresher,

the alleys,
for all creed
or age

the one becoming the other.

they together do not wonder
if the lips

if the lips what?

when I was a boy
I knew I
liked you best

but time undoes things
& rots
the very best


if I were a boy
I'd like
to

Think
about
what's next

I'd use my
sharpest blade
& groom you in your nest

but I'm just a girl
who's failed

o'er & o'er..


passed  your tests

and you're just a boy
pawing at my chest

my chest
under cover,

it,

sweet

or swell

enter

Feel free to

******

Finish

and it became a sadness which no desire could dispel
thinking of you i move my head away from light
down here among the dead
with thoughts my eyes could not have said
be it courageous summer
winter bring initials carved into trees
spanish air and newborn bees

The visual arts over
time constraints pull
                             and push
brick and mortar,
glass and bone aside.

Beside the sycamore traveling,
potsherds and splinters of graves
near similar resting places
never resting with syndromes

and now we search for scraps to place our waste into
fearing the wounds in Earth do not break
while we continue searching for scraps and waste

Today I shall meet cruel men, cowards and liars, the envious and the drunken. They will be like that because they do not know what is good from what is bad. This is an evil which has fallen upon them not upon me. They are to be pitied, not... Stolen, but fitting. Here are your words. To be blessed with such grace & virtue in my dull, blank world. Goodnight..

"I met someone new today. Ooo oo ooo."

See the blood on my feet.
Now go.

It hurts where? Yes, it will hurt everywhere.
Stethoscope there in the room with stainless surfaces and a ticking,
No it is a tapping behind the walls stirring the blood snared along with something inside of me.
Potions and cures, then sealed containers of flowers and beakers locked away remain motionless.
As if hiding, as if afraid.
Rather, enlightened of the cells I carry.


Befriend the gallops of illusion.
Four horsemen down from the failing ceiling.
Postmarked dollhouse, scars on the ceiling, echoes joined to you at the hip.
Scars of the disease you carry and sprinkle onto chests like so many children's agony.

Hooves carry eyes to scan this barren nest of yours.

There,
the ruins of something innocent.

And there,
the photos of some memory discarded.

Assured with the reality that creation of life is but fantasy here, unattainable.


The innocent fall.

Smiling as they enter, your charms masking the smell of your closet's skeletons, a door revolving unhinges.

The coins you receive, coated in thumbprints and neglect. Mirrors of your frame.
A currency, your own currency of moans and gnashing.
Your small teeth becoming your permanent incisors.
Crumbling.
Powder then paste, yet you remain alive.

They become your master for sixty nine dollars.
They became your lover for want of a token.

Tokens forged in the booth appearing near noon.

Nothing else or again.

Then the drummer moves to erase the music of your past.

A vat overfilled with murmurs and spittle.

Your finished symphony.

Suddenly my life isn't all that it was meant to be.
No good doings and no Hell that I've come back from.
And a plane flies, people asking why it has to be like this.
It's just another day.
Take the guesswork out and you will know what you've been dealt.

Her lipstick falls off.

A shimmering substance,
A tear falls, your powdery limbs & and ******* melt,
the perfume spoiling is a sickening way to lure and rock your mind full of distant graves and more distant roots,whispering ,
screaming but after your eyelashes kiss.

Lips I feel lighter notes and sweeter songs are due best to avoid, awards jangle from the greying clips and scraps below your softer feathers.

Oh?
Is this cashmere, a feeling lost to below the old world?

Pray-chance tell me it is,
the knife and my pool of blood underneath my heart,
just above the parking lot.

In the bar,
my eyes
kiss pool cues.
In time I'll walk away.

Stop.
She lights a cigarette and continues driving
Jesus is the answer, as she pulls away.

"memories may occur "
Over the phone she reads to me the massage parlors' brochures.

Just a few lines.
Just dropping by.
Balance it.
Neustadt.
But it's small tragedy here on my rnd, visit your end.
Yeah flowers so.

Also, I mean.

Two pink trills beneath my dark moon.
Order her a newer face it will take away what hurts.
Me staying along the bank to hear the new king's words.

Tell me I have left of what I guessed to be my life.

I'll continue picking parts from the rusting owl.
My mouth with your blue lips I know now just how coarse.
I know that I'm far off course.

True. Truer aim.
And I now turn the key where graves are not.

The potter

If I am wrong.
If I am wrong.
Woe,
for what is done must come undone.


The ash behind our eyes forgiving guesses, non-English.

Her hands never knowing if A will equal A.

There are few roads to find.
A camouflage repeats the mistake and the sun is brought flowers.

Your containers of teeth.
Or is it repetition I must break?
No longer must I take the ears from a Titan's form.
No longer will I peddle for cord so thin.
Not in this market's sandy square.
Be it a square, a river, a helix.
All shapes and all colors will to make brilliance in these eyes.
Under the ashen rain.
Not a sentence to file away.
I'm behind the faux steel cupboard.

The meek shall inherit the art.
A mob of sisters clutching grains as treasure.

Marriage license.
The smallest finger removed Darling.
Without grotesque wine.
Her ring sparkling, yes a note received.

I can take myself away from the falling away.

Why am I waiting to pull my lungs from the water?
Not nearly pale enough nor clean enough.
And the sun, it shines.
In the same brick school or something closer, more similar.
Stuttering or am I not?
Do not respond overwhelmed.
Something is different.
These are no the things I want to hear.
Give me that picture you carry.
Or just tell me I'm worth it.

Oh close jaw come unhinged.
Florida and its curve bring new friends, new debts.

Fully polished.
Fully formed.
Neither fully sworn nor finished.

Do we know all that's coming for us?
The perfection of your line shoulder.

My closest way to bleed without a scar.
Feel so pointless holding your air above me.
The spiraling of Earnhardt's plane.
Concrete grave broken open.

By morning, darker bandages.

Against the white I'll remain blue.
A sobbing Lord offers a swifter kick.
Not a friend to the art. Nothing found in lies.
There was so much there to remove.

Find ourselves with darker bandages by morning.
My words shake in the pointed forest.
The harder we sail.
The harbor for friends of man.

Wondering if I should continue engraving my name on these fables.
I should give up.
Or I will start.
I wait for the midnight to move.
Sleeping for her newest hour.
This point brings me no higher.
With this fortune I move every warlock in this world.
Pictures worth many words.
Letters not worth burning.
Over all the words, the few strikes of the storm.
Jumping from dilated memories.
This is enough erasing.

Monday to forget Sunday and Saturday.
Tuesday to plan Wednesday.
Thursday to remember Thursday.
Friday.

In the bathroom I polish my mirror.
Turning the hourglass wondering what I've lost.

"You've found nothing and so, you've lost nothing."

The voice of angel Death.
Heard only when I lose consciousness under bath water.
Rise again, search for God's scrutiny.
Wipe my eyes, blot my nose.
I fail to glimpse my siren.

Ah, a time to reflect.
A collection to publish.
A thought to be sharpened.
No.

Only words to be ignored.,

Something here causing mold.
Something changing in our voice.
Nothing strange, it's nothing noticed.
But it's not a thing that should remain so solid.
As solid in life, like facts. Those knowing there is strife.

"I believe this to be your own problem."
I tell my son this every night.
After dinner.
After his mother calls and after his mother moves to bathe the day's sores.
In bed my son recounts to me his good deeds and other's misgivings.
And I think of young women I should have ******.
I listen and ignore his requests for good advice.

Do my words contain a sedative-like effect?
Or they are amphetamines?
Neither, but poison?

"Only God Can Judge Me"

I tell the man with needle in hand these words I want as tattoos.

              Tomorrow is Tuesday.

Hello my past-loved muse. I am not creator now.
Remember days ago and you'll not see me there.
Success to be found in my life, yes.  
Let's walk my wasteland, my mecca to be.
Close your eyes of wind begins to stir.
The stagnation is chilling.
There to my left is sterile ground.
  Abyss in the sea of nonexistence.
Stirring. They souls not yet pulled into my catastrophe.
I spend the nights swimming along voids.
And I waste my days questioning true North.

There is something just below my heart.
Though you say I own no such thing, I feel a virus dancing.

Though you tell me I am bones and rot.
I feel life and discipline festering.

Abuse.
So tell me this sea has you today.
It's this sea that's so deep in you.

Abusing you.
There is nothing we can do.
You are drowning.
                                   (SOS)
We will bury your corpse in what we feel is love.

When you remember me.

Here I am. Just as a promise.
Yeah...
still imperfect.

Yeah here I am, watching all those men say hello without goodbyes.

And here I am, a bit more together now.

Yeah I called, just to say my life folds together, inward now.

And yeah I called.

But not to tell you how pretty
and empty they're becoming.

I called to say that I called to say...

                         (I've)

Tending to a kitten's cry and not my oily hair.

Her eyes burn with an intensity
that yours never could.
And I feel alone.
With this frame, this pain, this agony.

I figured benzos.
But they burn oh,
Emma.

And love.

A feeling where you are already dead but people cry for you.

.

this breath.
what will one breath create?

or is my breath an altar?
my lungs enter more treacherous waters.

words roll.
break
and crash.
across your neck, flooding you now.

tightness.

slow and deliberate, my wrath comes today.

today now I watch.
no, I struggle for a line of her miracle.

this...
no, not quite...
no, this...this.

this peace removed
from oil and cleaned with oil,
dryed by human hand and
made dull with soft cloth.

justice surrounds me.
examples include steel and glass.
plastic vial. cotton within.
caught it waiting.


an egg sac introduced under skin.
and inside there's now plastic.
a womb dried in a village burnt.

                    Lord Almighty, lacerations and bonds tightening.

hidden in the spine (with hot glue & cross-stitching),
my old eyes make real
silvered ashen memories.

people looking at me.
people searching through me.

feel it at dawn.
                       (or you?)
and again before sleep leaves me behind.
                       (or before sleep, leave me behind.)
the Sandman's eyes open, now meeting mine.
                        (I'll leave mine behind.)

I could find Death!
I will hunt with your umbrella.

mistaken there in the waste can, also there behind that church wall.
now, stop for a day or is it today?

                           "sleep
                                                                                           (  blank area  )
                                                                                              small space
                                                                                         (  white border  )

                                       and dream"

                                                                her darkness moved my hand.

woken with force.
with a message to accept, but I
do not understand.

I should have listened closely,
but I do not speak the land.

                             's

falling raindrop, soon I'll be inside.
if night or day comes, that's when...
                       that is when I'll decide.

ah, sun's light on my face.
escort drives past, I've not seen nor forgot.
  "abandoned something"

I lower this spine, while watching thin heels
descend the three stairs.

my jacket I'll bring.
full moon shivering chills.
my spine will fold, will regrow, will develop sentience.
I would leave it behind.
the umbrella was bitter Fantasy's product.

goodnight sweet Prince.


some time for me, more about me.
my disfigurement.
my new itch to scratch.

the sun shines, rests sometimes in the instant
I close my good eye
or in the moment
I close my bad eye.
  one eye for clarity, my other for scrutiny.
      I use both for ascending.
where is this place now?

  is it there between the concrete growing?
                                        or perhaps in that warehouse spilled,
                                        no I should say spilling.

do not escape from light.
even coffins need guests, yes.
nothing grows without soil.

from nothing, soil grew without soil.

but...

                                        maybe now is not a time to tell you.

by way of the solemn.
more so than
by way of the brilliant.

emotions
not fully focused,
would perform deeds unaware,
evil impure, pooling and swirling.
young stagnant river, aging unnoticed under Missourian mountains.
take a stroll now to mend all your wounds.

from hope or pain you will close your eyes.

                                      coax today's life to a slumber.
                       know today's knife is your slumber.

I can describe no more detail.

take watch?
                      "no, not yet."
stand?
and we shall not kneel?
or bring arms for our raining March?
                      "no, not yet."
bend.

phantoms now.

over the timbered forests, a glow becomes a guide.

yes move towards and follow.
sever their source of medicines.
nod yes, smile while peace is burning.
cook fire
   and eat, drink to a merry dance.

a shadow watching you now.
your shadow so curious,
                                 betraying you now.

"home..."

cried for,
in wet gulps near black gulch filling
with you.
closest scarlet.

by way of the solemn, more so than by way of the brilliant.
it is tested again.
hypothesize
or abandon your
growing truth.

time proves its weight.
over and over.

this is now end.

I compose me
try to pull teeth and grey elements

Ash and grey elements appear during supper
Words and personalization become law
Become a creed

A fool bringing moss to market,
Shawl holds tight while eyes pierce concrete,
wide at home and closed while here,

In this home

A shack with spoons

This late hour steams from crowns of heads,
or crowns on heads,
when darkest,
only mist is seen in crowns on bedposts.

Black panther melodies scar institutes
Whiter power anthems are nothing to speak of

I bet it is on three laurels
A magic marker nodding off

It is a drinking whiskey game I win


But I think I'm going to Hell

Kiss me before I am in Hell


Finding many things burnt but not char

I can't find what that word means again

This song and title I can't put back together

Oh, I could call


If only,

Oh,

I knew it all

A neck to breathe down with the gauge I bring down

Could suddenly cut ourselves short

This vegetable garden could produce marrow

Not knowing it was a crime

Fifteen points of light,
no matter which order counted,
  fifteen points of light become one.

A year of rigor,
well documented flash and swords,
   become grainy, a grid near thin smiles.
  
Bring to me that germ, speak with me and smile.
Regulator of past or present.
  Sympathetic magic, dry bones.

Roots of the low density mountain.
Effigies or in ****** form?
This office, without light.

Movement in the belt of crust.
               A breath moves, another escapes.

Fifteen points of light removed.

Pony trick. Oats I trade for honey.
Hoarse electric wind, not cooling hotter rocks.
Stirring years.  l'Enfer

Wait.

Maybe this page is turned then torn.
(listen now as these seconds vanish)

Avec un lourd trophée à son bras puéril,

man removes himself, others follow.

It is a flat day.

Behind me, golden water continues to rise.

A step beyond and I will break my mother's back.

I feel the sum of jokes untold and lies misunderstood.

On the edge of this fear, do believe.

A new correction.

Centered and balanced on my forehead.

Unpack my mind.

In Leopard skin or Moleskin.

Anything but,
Something forgettable.

The tide has come.

I will say goodbye.

In my own way.


Will you rise and fall?

During my rest, will you continue life?

Or will you begin death again?

Baby, I am he.

Without curls and without the illusion of honesty.

An American flag.

If his country will do nothing as one child freezes,
it is only natural to swaddle with its flag.

Baby I am falling down real fast.

Baby I am moving and my eyes are closed.

Baby I am seeing a light.

And baby, did you know?
You were all I had.

Untitled
It's again open season
Yet there remains no vacancy
No rooms for rest
Salmon kite
Days of nostalgia
Free float
Pure trist
Illis quotes Amber
The fungus grows larger
A beast and a rifle to burden this momentum
Falling through a mother's pine
One thousand banes in the form of love
A mother's work is never done
Ninth dynamic
Four hours and this is forged again
Silver screams heard through golden temples
Dust settles, the bricks fall
A mile of bone penetrates the pyramid
Bringing new forma of energy
Satan's toothpick
And sharp fur for another
Ghost conductor entering messages
Down there, he eats in fits of a slothful rage
In fits of overdosed shrubbery
***** clocks
Each hollows and fades you
Advanced romance as strands won't return
Dirt searches for your face in the midnight hours
Artificial chains
Lead by burns
Idolatry commencement

@@@ instead, a torturous present is all that is offered and all that's been left for Robert.
&&& alone. feeling forgotten and bitter, Robert walks away from the gold and fire, across the snow and ash covered wheat field.
&&& possessed by an otherworldly sadness and immeasurable loneliness, Robert loses his humanity.
&&& in an event infinitely lonely in its probability, the universes washes Robert with fire, stripping him of his humanity. Granting him something superhuman.
&&& passenger with her parents Julia sees the transformation, the slow ropes of flame and the heavy clouds burning Robert's core.
&&& Julia senses something profound has happened, but keeps the revelation to herself. Julia's parents see nothing.
&&& Julia is driven away.
))) preface closes.

Julia sways in the same Winter, losing an up hill battle of deep seated Calvinistic virtues and the excitation of *******.
@@@ Julia goes on weekend holiday with her parents in hopes of losing her virginity in some square of Savannah.
@@@ Julia packs a bible, hoping to burn it in a symbolic rite of passage.
@@@ Julia packs a doll, hoping to drop it from a rocky bluff, post de flowerization, a highly political and artistic statement.
@@@ Julia packs the lucky strike cigarettes she took from the family gardener years ago, saved for her first post coitus cigarette.
@@@ Julia fiddles with a razor in her parents washroom. Breaking a piece and tucking it in her fingernail, as she read once that prostitutes do.
&&& Julia plans to draw blood in her ******; the man or men severing herself from the responsibility of a ***** & she severing her skin as tribute to a new brokenness.
@@@ Julia fantasizes her flower's loss to be on a rich man's bed with one or two plainly handsome sons of a rich man.
@@@ Julia desires the experience to be ******, seething with heat and violence.
@@@ Julia prays for this chaos, to shed her modest and humble skin, to become a quiet ***** in this painful flash of light.
@@@