• I’ve seen the surreal face of those who oppose me. Laugh lines hard from the cackles in which they expel, eyes showing evidence of sleep lost as far as it can run, and a mouth such an odd shape one would not at first recognize the curves of Cupids bow- over time, it has become more or less parallel with hell as if they could never know compassion, never mind love. A tongue, perhaps, bitter with shallow defeat. A nose, picking apart what they do and don’t like based on a pungent reaction their clouded sensory nerves decide upon a first whiff.

    Of all things you can‘t base your notions on, it’s a face. Unfortunate it is when the eyes, mouth, nose and tongue talk too much. A face is no longer a judgment- it’s a window.

    Gunk, filth, clouding up my purity and becoming a restless insanity.
    Keep laughing, old woman.
    You all make me sick.