⚝ Intercepted At February 23, 2026
X.
Was I but an unkempt dame, from the usher of upturning looking down on fate?
I see myself, look at myself, looking at nothing but an orchard of flesh.
Their flowers had kneeled down, and their ovaries dried up, leaving nothing but some gallowed soot.
They dashed upon the indifferent ground, painting it for another day, and then screamed to me:
"Dream, dream, for this is also soothe".
Funtitled #57
In memoriam Mark Rothko X / Dusty Brown & Glazed Silver, Chunk of Saffron