A Dyke / Herself?

epicene-writings:

Wearing cologne as a spittle

She cannot dissolve

Into the milky night –

(Lit eyes, chapped lips

Or, maybe

Gentle lips and torn eyes?)

;

She roams her way into

The night, the night

That cannot – that, she knows –

Hide from herself

Her hideousness – 

;

But she’s there, still

Moving silently

Towards monsters…

And the sighing night

Grows apart, em-

Bracing her, as she’s moving

Still, towards –

Herself.