Subconscious Reality
A memory of having to train as a fashion model.
I woke up with the words Corpuscular, vicarious In my head. And there I was again Teetering on a precipice; cat walk; artificial reality. I had dreamed of art school A minute globular particle A lymph cell in the sea of creativity swimming with vitality I served, instead, for my aunt, who wished She was me; sixteen. Hiding my identity as a conduit of art now a clothes hangar. I walked along the cat walk My flesh creeping...
