Monday, March 30, 2009


She moves, blackened, scarred and scared
She is eloquent and viable
The intravenous fluid faith fills her
she takes the bread, breaks it and awakens
A tangible ghost, a fragile ego
She is forgotten.
Quod me nutrit me destruit....
The tree bears falicy and
yet the fruit is sweet.
She forgets herself...
the forgotten never seem
to serve us well in battle.
Consummatum est...

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