Madness, N, was always there. Just think: inside you I am always an Austrian spring. I invented a city of rabid cats, sucked hard on every nail before its assembly of parts were anything but flotsam and foam. My dear relatives, N, they can’t appreciate my taste for semen, the moony tang of pleasure, they can’t appreciate how godly I’ll be, hair grazing thighs grazing towers grazing tit-heavy clouds. N, I took the fiberglass in my mouth and bit down, and, N, I wanted to insulate and poison this body that made me to suck and taste and god there. There were bricks everywhere I made them too to graze in the sick like decultured pigeons. And the factories, what more can be said of factories but the word factory, I’m in the center of a chemical rainstorm, naked as stone, legs smoother than the mirrors laid down for the birthday cocaine. A human face will press against its glass drugged and ready to lose its dimensions. But I’m a wife tonight. My lap laid down with gingham and wait, I said N, don’t you dare find me right now in this room. Don’t you even dare.