The job in certain lives has been to find A
way to live with feeling-for just to B
the selves they are requires them to C
things they were forbidden to. All the D
structive or delicious forces became inE
luctable vapors inside the inF
able houses of personal traits the wee G
board wishes of their parents built. But their nH
ures were folded under, not destroyed. I
have this job in my life, of course, the J
hook of things not to say, not to know, not risK
things, but life threatening ones, the deep wL
of being unloved and unforgiven. M
pathy was my way out; my mother wouldn’t evN
feel anything, she actually unlearned how to (thO
feeling what everyone else felt was also P
nal servitude). Generations got this Q
from generations: Don’t say what you feel, you R
not you. Generations of liars in a mS
one got the next one into became a T
leology of undoing. You are not U,
you do not hide what you feel. Behind your V
nial mask you hide, you as a W,
as spelling masks meaning, a kind of hX
on the alphabet, folded to cover Y,
not to destroy it, but to make it haz.
The Spell
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