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Abstract
I shall embrace my wraith lest my soul quiver. I have no voice: you slit my throat. I have no vision: you slashed my eyes. I have no touch: you abscised my limbs. Blind was I for your blindness and deaf for your deafness. God’s consort were you: entrenched in delirium and heedless to my pleas of reconciliation. My veins were your map of victimhood, and my heart, your confessional; yet I was the fatality in this cataclysm — nay, abomination — we christened <i>love</i>. I bore witness to your plummet into the fathomless bowels of disillusionment. Akin to my dismembered corpse are your otherworldly predilections; your reason is the m
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outhpiece for your nonage. A beast of burden have I become, unbeknownst to me: my reality that none can gainsay. I died. You killed me. We killed us, and our laurels have withered. An enchantress are you, a necromancer; may your mana never call to my spirit, for in my demise is your contentment — rife with fancy. Caustically will I grin at your obtuseness. Gods, too, die; veins, too, dissever. Thus, I say unto you: awaken from your reverie. Look upon the rose and cypress and aster and iris; watch them solely as them. You pitiful woman. I gave you sight; yet you failed to see. Behold the future you have wrought.</p></article></body>
Rufus Gifford shows immense grace, humility and style.
A perfect example is here where he queues up for tacos at my favourite lunch spot.
Now CNN is calling him the anti-trump:
Oh, and by the way, CNN, sexual assault is a very serious issue, not a bothersome irritation cluttering up the news. Please refrain from trivializing this serious and very pervasive issue.
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