And so, my dearest Calista, you remain nowhere. In love your nails submerge into her wretched abdomen, scouring deep between her pulsing moralities, go deep, dearest Calista, so deep, farther down into her core, then deeper still. Dearest Calista, listen closely to her cries, do you hear how she pleads His name? No. She sings, Calista. You harmonize in her sonnet of pain. You echo in her raging soprano. She wants more, Calista, let her have it all, just a little more, Calista, pierce deep into her anterior wall, and dig deep, dearest Calista, dig deeper into her rotten flesh, for only in sleep would her demons sing to her. Deares

Tears melted her a garden, upon her sheets of lavender and roses, this sister sleeps, for far away shores inked in dark, this child lay still in silver light. So frail between her ivory bloom, this child lay still, her bust, unformed, adorned in white, her petals, unfallen, unstained by black, her body, unbroken, untouched by sin. As so in sleep she dreams the dream of dreams, so young she sleeps upon the shore, in life her heart given true to He, whom’s love she swore, so blind, abhor. But dearest Calista, don’t you hear them? This child had heard her demons’ song. Your lust had caged her, her existence thin. In time y

Dear Father I beg you reconsider. The months grow old between us, so much so I fear the seasons may wither into infirmity. Dear Father you declaim of these dreams, but I beg, what dreams are there to dream as I lay awake each night, sleepless as the starry sky. Oh Father you speak of these demons that plague me, yet the only demon I conceive of is She, and my actions, as stained as they may be through the lens of time, remain lucid to me, in my mind. Dear Father I beg of you take me from this place. These wafer sheets offer meager respite from their insufferable cries. And their eyes, dear Father, they stare upon me as if my form refl

Tears melt into oceans. Across broken shores the siren lay, wasted across lonely shingle, ravaged by passing storms. From under crying ripples her eyes reared: White sands inked in black, black skies bleached by white, entropy muffled beneath crashing waves. Freedom had caged her, calm scrawled under her nails. Silence had deafened her, memories eroded across the shore. Do you see? No… His voice reigned heavy upon her, her corpse sank; drenched beneath him. A voiceless breath, bewitched in song. A warmthless sun, a spectre of change. A fragment of cipher. Dusk stained deep now, between the folds of white. Wounds bled thick now,

Dearest Calista, you are nowhere. Sleeping to the sound of trickling waters, waking as your fluids drain between cragged tiles, watching as they dribble from your rotten carcass, weeping as they drain into your rifted flesh. Dearest Calista, listen closely to your cries. You do not plead for help. You do not scream in pain. You do not shout in rage. No. Not even your song can be heard from beneath your crumbling cage. Dearest Calista, how your mind screams. Beneath your ragged corpse your colours drain. Echoes crash against your ridged seams. Biles mingle inside your rotten passages; dye seeping out your stoned retinas. My Dearest Cal

You… Don’t remember how you got here. When you got here. Your skin is pricked by the frost of dawn as your eyes look out through the sun-burst canopy of rosen sakura. You don’t remember how you got here, and you’re not afraid. Should you not be afraid? You hear echoes of raindrops fall in your past yet no understanding of why. The echoes fade into harmony; vibrations through the wind. You hear ocean waves crashing through the song. What music is this? You find control of yourself and take a step forward; your feet wet in the carpet of ancient dew that imbues your roots. You take another step… And an