Sad Labels:
dark art
,
retrospect
,
suicide
epiphanies. fingernails gnawing through the skin. to witness the warts on the outside. witches. licorice hair and chocolate vaginae. succumb to the thrust of the oven.
wearing her jaundice in quiet sobs. tiny twigs in the spokes of mammoth tires. propel her forward even as her method stalls. choice. the last refuge of fools and poets. a distant utopia populated by of clowns and acrobats.
where each spectacular feat is diminished by their willingness to fall.
following the map written in her skin. veins like stitches. tangled in knots. bones like buttons. pretend to fit. into the holes left. after the circus is over. all those cages crowded again. only the smell of shit remaining.
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