She was young and unknown

Theirs was an awakening

He held her against the willingness

To seed her flower

There in the garden

Spilled her on the earth of shame

Constance Bane a mouthful of shame

A child turned against time

As the days spin her dizzy

She remembers denial in a tizzy

61. The Seventh Constance

The seventh Constance of the universe

The one that pain rules with never

Promises and quakes of nothing diverse

The one that remains the same

Who lets everyone else play the game

It is a constellation clustered with shame

Torn and full of ambiguity

Never knowing what’s next in its purity

Kill me rape me and never befriend me

There’s nothing left in the Constance

She was born she lives, remaining in the distance

She is the void of ambivalence

That swallows the many things wanted

The successes lost and time daunted

Through the nights and days left behind

Hung on ropes to dry, out of sight out of mind

Into the dark, damp and chains that bind

My prison, Constance in mind could be sultry

The emotional constellation becomes tawdry

It is what it is and we run against the wind

As the kings queens and jokers against us grinned

We have a flair for debaucheries of nothing than a void

62

When She says “Wendy’s going to die”

These are tomorrow Crucified

Against the blue of heaven

And baptized with an ocean

Of forget-me-nots

I pray to be somehow

Thought of in passing

Like an old friend flutters by in thought

That is no more or never was

The sea of faces that passes by

And never returns

Except in odd recognition

And deja-vue

Tie died in varied yesterday

Screaming to be set free

Locked in the prison thought

Of the fish bowl coffee shop

And expresso click to know it all

Captured in that exposed

Cappuccino grin then what?

Bleed a little huh?

Drunk on the haze of loud

You too my pod

Explode behind my eyes

Before these notes sultry gets drowned

Out by the crowd

And caffeine cuz it all

Wears down to dark sleep

I ask the question

Why it is that I wish to cease to be

So much

Why is that sleep never-ending?

Appeals

To one such as this nothing

Is a goal dream the trophy?

To think of death never ceasing

Dark and demons

No flames of brimstone

Sulfur gases

Or volcanic dread

Just the eternal unease

That it may all begin again

The nauseous idea that

It never really ends.