Gentle slopes. Leading up to taller hills. Butterflies giving away their wings. To eager time travellers. The octopus under her nightgown. Suffocating. The coke bottle in her vagina breaking. While she anticipates the molecules' surrender.
Seldom mazes. Turn around her faces. Barely fables. Coax the meat from her thighs. Raw strangers. Work their forks. Like the fangs on the wolf. She sees the forest. And it sees her. No blind except for everywhere else. Not afraid of the fangs.
Tiny methods in giant holes. Feel for that missing exit. She counts the leaves on every tree. Breaking each branch as she goes. Everywhere she's been. Nowhere she wants to go.
Not without her methods. Not confused at all. The numbers make more sense than anything else ever did. I catch the disease because it's mine to suffer through. I catch the disease because it must be caught. If ever I am to be immune.
It's just the chocolate. The candy dripping from her lips. That steals her in little nibbles. Small pieces taken. Regret the whole. Thin kites press the wind. Red fingers cling to an empty string.
She sleeps on the edge of the bed.
Dreaming she'll fall.
Monday
12/14/2009 01:09:00 AM
Sad Labels:
acceptance
,
introspect
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