And So No One Doubts the Infinite Beauty

Some fetus, some such-and-such, loses her name every time you speak it. Which is why I prefer the secret of me to the subject of me --- chief/chief/ lady /chief/
Hypocrite, if you're boring enough to trust that word which in a former language translates to power or something worse than a name performed by impostors, a scene you lock to see if the key works, and when it does, what disappointment doesn't enter is never relieved of disappointment
My headline read Where is Silence Sacred

I broke into the words we waste on approval: love, war, wish, you, diluted clues into nothingness
It wasn't a question. It went in the shape of tombs and tom-toms, the battles that built their letters to outlast their meanings, the ones who go vanishing between him and no one. At the speed of desire, necessity. At speaking of necessity, move very quietly in every direction