has nonetheless remained the same.
to continue the interior monologue of who I am
written by Henri Cole
written by Isaac Asimov
My mom is crying to Long Island Medium god help me
What do you expect after this?
Applause? Your name on stone?
You will have nothing
but me and in a worse way than before,
my face packed in cotton
in a white gift box, the features
dissolving and re-forming so quickly
I seem only to flicker.
written by Margaret Atwood, “Small Tactics” from Power Politics