What if, her stream of consciousness, was not anything that resembled a stream. And her tears could not be analysed by the temporariness of her disillusion. What if her feet sank into the ground like she'd never known her own weight, and that she bounced back up, without even the slightest change in temperament. What if the weapon they put up her had tangled her insides so that she could no longer be identified as a properly distinguishable person. What if, there was no person of her at all now, just a vase, a carrier of the tanks that taught her what she is, before she forgot everything and got washed out. Again. What if she were born and then killed so that she'd had to start over, learn how it is to be. And what if they wanted to then tell her that she had learned her behaviours from the rats she knew well, and she should say, did you know its possible that I am alive more, because, she had been born again truer. What if the trauma you had rubbed on her had arranged her mechanisms so that they were no longer recognisable by any of the books. What if her story were simple, and it were hers? And you knew nothing of it, no nothing of it, no, never never. What if, you tried to sum her up but fell for her instead. The love that you feel when you can't contain the thing you see so you cower, give up, and she tells you thats the last thing she ever wanted... to bear, to bear the weight of your heavy heavy head.
But what if her words fell through the gaps of what is dispel-able and stay sitting there, waiting for your happy hand, to get it all wrong. And what if she'd been through enough wars to tell you she's a warrior but she couldn't say so, she needn't say so because she can't remember, and she doesn't care. What if she nodded at you madly like a dog, and she pawed at you and she made you feel you should want to tear her world apart?
wearing your clothes
laying in your bed
she needn't have a history.
Because you'd punched it all out f her til she'd become collapsable, carrier, torn and wide open.
But she glowed, she glowed of it
and you thought it was all for you.
And so you stripped her and buried her in your tenderness, and blood. And when the morning took over her, she rose up, rose up and you realised... she might just be, something, like God.
