“I have said all that I have to say. There is nothing left for me to do but scream.”
Apocalypse then, now, and how Kafka-esque her metamorphosis. The barren terrain, destitute, bleak. Her post-industrial cities span the scars of the planets. Where nothing is left alive. Not even love. Kay takes her death like she takes her whisky: straight up, and self-inflicted. Unsentimental. Shot to the heart.
Lorette C. Luzajic is a widely published writer of prose poetry, usually inspired by visual art. She is the editor of The Ekphrastic Review.
"straight up, and self-inflicted" - can't be more direct or honest than that -ReplyDelete