a storm of locusts chips away seemingly monotonous patterns of the day, and the empty mascara bleeds sepulchral varnish, embalment macerates in the scent of blighted foliage. her tenebrous vanity scoured to bone, numinous prayers caught a peculiar malady, she took onto herself the crown, her little empire, clasps the reins to broken capillaries, heavy limbed the oxygen rots to ripened plums. a venomous bite? pours the nights hush, metaphormosis springs; deafening rattles shadow the rabbits trail as it converges beneath volcanic ash. facades bloom on wiry bristles. she reclaims all in the name of justice, her little empire grows smaller; with every hasty handful, she shoves in her mouth; rancid torpedoes, tapeworm eggs, she will be a mother, cradle the marrow of being in her palms. inside; carnevorous plague pulses in anticipation, midriff brims with raked light, spun opal; translucent skin stretched taunt. mesmerized, the needle caught a dallop of sun flooding her periphery, all fetid coagulum and hairballs- behold how flowers collapse to filth.