Sunday 2/10/2008 12:38:00 AM

Reactions dance like crippled sleep. A murder without a corpse. Revising sober. Rewriting apathy. Paper dolls fucking their scissors.

I don't. Won't. Know. Or admit to remembering. Ever having felt anything.

Now is circumstance too confident. Now is shit waiting in yesterday's bowels. I can't touch what I can't see. Nightmares electing better Satans by which to sin. I cure myself everyday. By night I'm sick again.

Ice melting in empty glasses. Words said too late to matter.

Strangers.

Broken nails everywhere. Bruised fingers pointing at what isn't there.

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