MEDIA SKIN: The Last Face
At last, only fragments remain. Future. Dream. Noise.
Surreal
MEDIA SKIN: Collapse Under Noise
And then the noise grows louder. It enters through the eyes, settles in the flesh, presses against the mind until even silence begins to ...
MEDIA SKIN: The Uniform
We learn early how to wear the world. Its headlines. Its judgments. Its roles. Its expectations.
One More Heart
He thought he was special. But on her table there were already traces of other men, other vows, other hearts.
Man-Eater
She does not break hearts. That would be too easy. She opens them. Tastes them. Keeps what becomes addictive.
Give Me Back My Heart
He gave her his heart. She did not take it for love. She took it to see how much power was still beating inside.
Chicken Soup
But what grows must leave. What grows wings no longer belongs to the hand that keeps it warm.
The Stolen Heart
She lifts her gaze - her eyes now blaze, two icy stars in endless night. She gives it back, in mournful daze: my heart - it cracks, has l...
What Remains of the Human
They took her head. Not out of cruelty, but out of habit. They wrapped her in coarse fabric, called it order, called it protection.
The Cloud Upon Her Brow
Upon a chair of solemn wood, She sat - as only madness could - In garments torn by Time’s decree, Betwixt the womb and mockery.
