I am kinetic and I scream for revenge. I am benign and passive between the cleavage of my apathy. I am decoration and I do what I am told. so promiscuous I am with my consent I taper like a funnel and pour myself out till nothing is left. my coda is loose soil with no vestige of significance to insure immortality. my name will have no memory past the fragile circle of nepotism I call home. it’s so heavy above and so lonely below while the middle gets farther everyday. the creamy filling of affirmation looses it’s sweetness when the mirror hates it’s reflection and is shattered by it’s honesty. I lost my voice in my war with me and now suffer from asphyxia just waiting for my horizontal atonement beneath a nameless headstone in a deserted pasture to be grazed upon and start again. with my visceral sunset on a green plain I will no longer be an effigy but alive.