JENNY HOLZER 1991
JENNY HOLZER 1991
in a dream you fucked my revived corpse and you were full of empty. rigor mortis tender, no recognition, no regard. face down and wishing on dead stars that i could return to the soil that gathers neath my fingernails. how are these yellowing calcium crescents, so delicate, so fragile, a reminder of something so solid as death. is death solid? no, the ether’s veil doesn’t last. i resurrect every time. yes, lucid i’m here again with your dry palm on my deaf ear holding me down to the filthy sheet in a musty room full and empty. full and empty. full and empty. lovelessness.
