she's in the ash where it's beautiful
the remnants of burning where you can finally rest
inhale the peace of the shapeless gray and black
when only moments before it was the red that lured you
that leaves you now to crawl away
lick and dress your wounds
this colorless material
based chromatically on hostile desire
this oxygen-less chemical
life underneath glass that's victim to gravity
sighing...
"you are what i've dreamt of"
"now you're real, and i feel sick".

both the machinery and the monkey wrench
i'm the salve that feels better despite coarseness
crawl blindly into "safe" architecture
the windowless walls left inside your glasshouse
a design more pretty than functional
open to dismantlement
this colorless material
it feels better than nothing at all
this absent visual
where sound and touch draw divinity in range
praying,
"you are what i've feared"
"now i feel stained and cold"