This was a time in Veriades’ life when she organized the various identities that composed her being into octahedrons:

How exciting!

Swaths of earth clay meticulously pressed into geometric perfection,
a denial of any terrestrial origin.

Muddy diamonds drifted across marbled matrix, synchronizing into Veriades’
form of the week.

Just as all the pieces had fallen into place,
a single float property
drifts out of bracket,
bumping its corner on the back of the div.

This will not do, it’s rounded!

Veriades clicked her tongue and squeezed the clay back into shape. The wet surface indicted the woman with thumbprint pockmarks, despite her desperate acts of smoothening away any evidence of humanity.

She begged the clay to reflect perfection, but it could only reflect her.

How infuriating!

Ever since that new acquaintance allowed Veriades to fix up her disorganized forms, she’s had thoughts only for geometry.

Past that clatter and clinking ceramity,
squares spanned the even width and height of the interface
and spoke to a once naive Veriades;
corner to perfect corner.

But her thing right now was octahedrons,
because she can do her own thing, too.

As her hands got more desperate,
other parts of the polyhedron warped.
What blasted facet could amass such wrath?

In conflict with her character,
she crushed the shape.

Shitty clay was pissing her off,
and it was better to get it out of the way.

Veriades:


Second person plural
conditional indicative of ver,
Galician.


The kind of woman you might want to psychoanalyze
if you were just the type of intellectual charlatan
that gets their rocks off by psychoanalyzing people
who snort the cracks of thesauruses like pubes.
A woman as confounding and shallow as the
needlessly obtuse prose
she surrounds herself with.
In the third person,
as though backing away
from a lie.

6/10, Great lay!

Blunt, cruel, and rife with revolting imagery.
Fuck you too, shape.

Veridic had a way of making clay seem so definite and simple…
but did it have to be pottery?

Sure, giving your shapes ‘lids’ and ‘openings’ make it easier to avoid uncharitable shapes like that one, but the inherent value of form feels wasted on the flimsy guise of “function”.

Plus, if you never look in any of the shapes then all they have to do is look nice anyways.

Veriades made a mental note
to invest in plasticine.