I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic. Perched.nCanvas draped, paint peeled.nGallons of something puddles in mutated mixtures.nnHurl stones around breaths.nThere will be shadows and holes.nnI, the Swan am beautiful and a desist in space between being and idea.nnI, the Swan am beautiful and phallic. Perched.nNeck stiff, a stone-ed image of different male.nWords will work swollen kindered knees to the floor.nnCanvas draped, paint peeled.nGallons of something puddles in mutated mixtures.nnI, the Swan am beautiful and phallic.nCanvas draped, can I feel?nI, the Swan am beautiful and phallic.nCanvas draped, can I feel?nnHe picked up a large white vase and pitched it.nSharp porcelain lined the shapless pool of liquid formed by its contents.nOf the man that pulled at my feathers.nnThe artist, the true manifestation of struggle.nThe shattered porcelain greeted back with fresh wounds.nMemories. Two beasts, naked.nnI, the Swan am beautiful and phallic.nCanvas draped, can I feel?