dissonance, erupting as visceral sickness. pressure in my skull. sickness. death. illness.

the flip side of pleasure/.

enjoy them, if you will, but hold me not to them.



a knife blade of energy sits in my back. once a sharpened part of a larger whole – slid in with menace and blame, and twisted.

i resisted with gentleness and failed.

i was given the option of releif through retreat, but refused,

this response is mine. I envision a circle, grown around the puncture point. i envision it glowing, blue silvery hot. i envision it closing, pulling in tight, i envision it closing, now as a point, and the blade is severed, a clena, unburdened skin gleamin where once was…

and the fragment of malice, misspent and lost, is digested, analysed and put to my use.



i thank you for the gift, and apologise for my tardiness in recognising it.