
We mere illusion
Manifestations of Her
Eternal Configurations
Tess Durbeyfield did not divine, as she innocently looked down at the roses in her bosom, that there behind the blue narcotic haze was potentially the ‘tragic mischief’ of her drama – one who stood fair to be the blood-red ray in the spectrum of her young life.
– Thomas Hardy
What are you waiting for
Why are you driving me crazy
Stay in the pulse come on break
Into an action in which natural
Processes are not interfered with
React according to circumstance
With irrational but persistent agitation
A woman possessed of more gifts than she can bare the Unnamable Jen pinches back her sweater hem casually presenting the fanciest soutien-gorge in her class to these two astonished eyes
Try to combobulate this is reality with no ready reply a natural manifestation of the universe radiating agency over her body and visibly firm skin regard this being in matter this undergarment with a cupid look picture her unerring poise her unnerving pose the manic gleam of her sinuous quest to release herself from all perspective a sacrificial priestess still victim of her own choice of exposure congé yet inescapable a daring darling becalmed in ripples of our time & space illusion or reflection we are two simple happenings that got entangled in this revelation of the One purpose yet we worship an unknowable mirror image
why again