Untitled- Rie Marsden


hung in air, the

alveolar, absorb

oxygen and what

that cigarette


remnants release

and flat, yeast

ferment malt

consume it all to


dispel, add hops to

taste, those clothes

strewn and piled

high, he always


would be kept

company by

traces that were

left by other men


other women

and was held by

those, as if it were

an embrace, wore


the memory of

them that had once

lain and occupied

his space, replete


with images pasted

on walls, that were

of some cerebral

masculine


importance, the

males together

read out poetry

love, mundanity


strange, she slept

under linen, when

cotton concealed

her nude, then


and had not

cared, or had to

endure, that his

kept the sweat of


other women

worn and warm

while her space

was devoid, and


calmed her, in

the flush

placement of

each, select


object that she

owned, all

possessed, were

to be phototropic

and turned towards

light, a sensation

she experienced

by this was a bliss


beyond compare

she a submissive

to the compulsive

order set in her


own cognition, an

object she retained

a plastic carrier

fuchsia, company



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