Typeface

The bitter pills she had swallowed flowed through her body and took the place of her cells. They showed now, bulging under the skin, prickly evidence, fruits in labor, grotesque and unfortunate. How did she think that she could salvage something of herself that was not her life?Today, bitterness flows from the side that got pierced most recently, and the other flow of love goes unseen. The birds that fly out of her mouth are tainted with the pall they see in her. They are dead because those who see them cannot see their life or their cause. And it is not in her power to make them see otherwise. All her love is for the inhuman now, the human having long disappeared to the world, Persephone to Demeter. She waits only for the transformation.