I don't have any words, only analogies.

My empty womb sliced up in a jar, awaiting further dissection and scrutiny, being searched for signs of cancer......This loss of which organ makes me even less desirable than I had been before, although less mercurial and far safer.

The huge standing, hollow cedar trunks, some of which had a few living, struggling branches, over in Hannah Flats. Their emptiness was big enough for me to stand in, their living flesh stretched to hold the decay and void within.

The blue gleam of a robin's egg shell among the grasses, smeared and fouled on the white side of the shell.

Your eyes, so honest looking, so unreadable, haunting me, haunting me, in my mind. I can't escape and the axe is poised and I am frozen with fear. I would prefer almost any other wound; but he knows my weaknesses too well for that and I am, quite simply, screwed.