BronwynHolmes

I am descended from frankenstein, For my desire to create and destroy comes above all else Standing here, I still feel the puss and flesh on my fingers as I create the men around me, With each limb they extend I form mythologies about their lineage, And when you stepped into view, A boy made of paper, I did as most lovers of the abstract do, I formulated multitudes out of empty space, I asked myself over and over, Who are you? Who are you? Observance only allowed for small and unsatisfying details, I carved beauty into your face and intrigue into your voice till my legs grew weak from standing, Suddenly learning about you wasn’t enoug