Thursday, May 05, 2005

.A Shrug of Eternity.

Blood oozes form the newly formed wound in her skin. It spreads slowly but surely over the surface of her broken skin. Her finger traces the cut and wipes the blood clean. Her hand lingers for a moment, held out before her eyes and she examines this crimson substance of life. She spread the blood droplets over her body, constructing portraits. And slowly on her naked body she creates a joyous world of smiling faces, cool ruby rivers and wondrous scarlet skies.

She admires her creation from above looking at it all upside down. She stands as if on a mountain top looking down upon the Promised Land. She wonders if this land was ever promised. Did she dream it? Did she let her imagination loose? Did she lose herself in bourgeois romanticism? This creation seems to have no real basis. And yet she feels betrayed as though a birth right has been denied to her.

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