Diassociation

Disassociation Gawaine Caldwater Ross Some people dash through fire, others plunge through ice. Is Reality the only thing when Chaos is the King? Ring all your golden Christmas bells, the sewer rats still dance: Then the ice they buy and sell will wind up in your drinking glass. All muddied and black, that iridescent toxicity in which the ship is lost. The mutineers choose weapons and toss the captain overboard to feed her to the sharks by the reefs of broken glass - each mirrored fragment seizes night light and casts werelit visions of her home bleeding, collapsing as the boulders fall dead center. (She goes into her heart and mind which reminds her) of departing kin who told her of the doom that wheezes down the orchard's razor walks. ? Too cold? - We'll leave this television frame behind to go and seek the whip instead. The radio commander never stops: Hilarity dances with dank despair, mudslides block the view. She seeks a serpent that doesn't bite and settles for a badger's den with herself as Cinderella, Joan of Arc, the Virgin Mary, or a vulture squawking over food. The radio commander orders her to yell in a crowded subway train: “Rubber plantation workers beat seedless grapes! Venus is being invaded by dogs!”