• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 10


Visored, my knight errant
Erroneously rides to my rescue
Scar-etched metal form
Symmetrical panels of pain
Gained from my barbed soul
And bladed barbs

Narrowed eyes begin to see
All that I am, misleading
Frailty hiding sheathed claws
I can scratch when I have to
Shall I show you?
Let me carve a line under us
And our chalk-dust lives

It was never black and white
Neat, symmetrical
A tidy planned out life
It was chaos really,
The nearly us
The wearily us
Until we removed our masks.