"got my rape hat on, but honey, I always could accessorize"

I am numb, but I feel my edges curling in like burning paper. From the center of the cyclone I blow, trying to asphyxiate the flame, knowing I started the fire to snuff me out--

Ashes.

I am angry. And very sad. Ruined. I don't tell it to anyone this way, I don't tell it while I'm touching it. You don't fly a keyed kite in a lightning storm while standing in a puddle--

Shocked blank.

North face, sheets of snow. Reflective, white, smooth, pristine. Shock waves, reverberations, avalanche. Rocky crags--

Exposed.

Masculine gaze. Monological maze. Lost in the labyrinth, Minotaurs in pursuit. Caught, captured, ensnared, stripped. Cut and clawed to pieces, marred, defaced--

Marked.

The mind shares the secrets, the heart does not. Photographic negatives proffered, black and white psuedo-disclosures. The color hides in the heart, redness concealed from vampires who drain it dry--

Dead.

(Talk about ghostwriting.)