Poetic riffs on horror tales br of love igniting that impales br then leaves you hanging in the void, br a hell you can't kill or avoid. br br The wild oats she could have sown br Were hers to seize so she could own br revenge on rapers of her soul. br But she had bought a Golden Bowl. br br The crack left love words seeping through; br they left a sediment that grew br until the salts stuck in her throat; br her heart sank in the sinking boat. br br Her hell was constant... but to think br she could have sipped the drunken drink br of wild oats, that nemesis, br that joyful anagnorisis. br br LRH br 9.10.