Fyenshya: ..".. the lining of my sillhouoette.. like a rollercoaster would ride down the contour of my shadowed form.. and I am an eclipse between two Goddesses.. perhaps one of them Astarte.. and this mixture of Goddesses that is my form in shadows Fyenshya.. is the birth-fissure-wound notification of my contracted creation as an embryo Fyenshya savage in the galactic wound of a milky way womb.. for I enter the milky way thru many of my phantom-form-fyenshya phasings thru the endless infinity of the Phantom Zone which traverses whole galaxies.. and I live in my suburban hut dwelling with my gentle phantom-father who provides me with coffee from teh local Subway Restaurant.. and Rainbow Gem cookies... from that Restaurant.... and I am streamlining my contours into something like a languid weed in the marshes and bulrushes of a beach wet with James Joyce's linguistics of seamorse.. I have books from planet earth here in the Phantom Zone.. including James Joyce's two great tomes.. "Ulysses" and "Finnegans Wake".. and Henry James's "The Golden Bowl" and "Wings of the Dove".. and also I own Henry James's "The Ambassadors".. the only one of Henry James's works which I truly find too difficult to understand.. as yet.. as yet.. maybe not forever.. and a broken wound is my heart which sobs and heaves like the windmills of Don Quixote.. and I am helpless as he is against the passions of my leather-wallet heart.. as tough it is against the gentle substance of my soul as if it were merely a red powerful muscle which brings the oxygen into full robust flux throughout my physiology.. and my physiology is needing air to breath ever to breath in the violence that seems to be the very spores of the air of the Phantom Zone.. and teh spores of the air cause massive itching over my body spare and lithe and the scratching is so adroit that I do that is seems this scratching ferocious and relentless over my itching body this scratching seems rather competent and efficient.. and I cut myself in two thru my scratching and call it the bestial, savage, ferocious passion of my heart to divide my frame in twine twain as if my very heart were a saber.. and my physiology was a wine-casket.. and I was an old body for new wine.. and therefore I was an old body coming apart at the seams unready for fresh new wine.. as teh Gospels say.. as the Gospels say.. and I am a Gospel woman Fyenshya and a Gosling dren now down the draining waxing and waning of my own blood liquid liquor down a sink abysmal like a frenetic black hole.. and all of this is me as a savage-will Fyenshya.. with bare breasts sometime bare like razors cutting teh very air that they breath in .. "
monologue for Winona Horowitz Ryder's Fyenshya in Francis Ford Copolla's or Steven Spielberg-directed, "Superman; man of steel", written by William Mackenzie aka Hanno Ridal Raudsepp....
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