Fractions. The queasy stroke of the numbers. Just before her eyes close. The waiting. For the decimal. As if. I'll ever be whole. The subtleties of villains. Pencil sketches on torn paper. The ego of the artist. Determined to create something from nothing.
Chameleons in the color of her cheeks. Play the pastels.
The future is a devious distraction. From now.
So many numbers. I'm still counting. How many beds I had to sleep in to find the right one.
all this despair burns to smoke. the body is just a chimney.
Wednesday
9/14/2011 11:47:00 PM
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