The curse is that we are trapped
Inside our own minds.
A fortress terrible, both inside and out.
The curse is that I am stuck here: an epiphenomenon,
a dream, within a dream, within a nightmare.

Her face is black her tongue is red and she is mad:
We sat at the edge of a precipice
surrounded by exploding suns
and crawling darkness.
Her skin was coated in a thin sheen
of green slime: I licked it tenderly,
tasting nothing.
We’d run for so long, long ago we left
the fields behind, and the flowers,
left behind the villages and cities,
long ago we left the grass behind, and the
mountains, left behind the works of man and G-d.
We have [...more]