CLOAK/3.6

The Art Students

Her small head is tightly woven like an heirloom basket
her black hair cropped and plastered into arrowpoints to match the geometrical abstractions of her brow
a little lipsticked dash connects her to the category of the super-beautiful
piercing its boxed hide as on a chart—
thus warning stripes, sematic, flash above/below the black brown eyes that never glance
the deliberating gaze stills views as if she would arrest their vagrant charms and close the lid upon them in an antique basket
one whose purpose is assumed and yet obscure—
the inexplicit message of an indrawn breath.
Trishna makes commentary on the drug her senior project— for instance, Choke, guttering candles under hanging vitrines, the candles arranged on beds of canary feathers.
- Someday we'll all be in a TV movie about this and like our hair will look really weird and outdated and our clothes and shit, but in real life we'll be all twisted and fucked-up in wheelchairs and won't even know.