The wheels next to me clatter on the stone floor. My legs have long since been broken by the guards, so I should be used to them by now. Today…
I live in the gallery of myself,Curated to be seen differentlyEast to West as West to EastOr North to South or some…
I have become a soup of myself.I boiled my bones, skimmed off the fat andBoiled again. My bones in a bag boiling.Bones removed and broth gets filledWith vanity and carrots and normalcy,And a few potatoes.