She provided me her bent nape with a synapse intact. A system of lucidity sprawled forth like an anthill. She entrusted me with a mechanism of tendrils that slithered among a ladder of vertebrae. Scarring bone with a sloshing acidity that infects each nook. Left dangling in twine with end and the truth of ash or soil. The way that cancer is the obligation as time persists. A ladder of eyes roped to the droop of her esteem. She blinked thirty three times at once until I ate each stem. She was never meant to see the aeons that bent and made her sing.