Saturday 9/13/2008 01:19:00 AM

The ugly is as close to me as they've ever come. Undressed dolls with their hair bitten off. Turning your karma against me. I'm old. Bitter. Useless. The window like a knife. Stabbing through always torn curtains. I could see. If I wanted to know. How hopeless it is. Trying to hate what I love. Or convince myself to choke on it.

The liars have the advantage. Always have. It's not as if I was counting. It comes. It goes. No one notices. The dinosaurs gone extinct in her bed. Penises like tampons. Content to sop up the blood.

I'm sure that it's over. And that it's only just begun. I flirt with the doll's torn hair. Biting down. Chewing. To swallow the foul. Steal what I can from the grave. Listen. As the corpse keeps talking. Assuming there was a plan. A place to go afterwards.

Etcetera.

The flesh is water. The heart is drowned in it.

Pieces swim. As if I can't recall. How far I was. From everything.

Mucous filled tissue exploiting my weakness.

Funerals in abundance. The dead busy themselves with burying each other. While the living just wait. For something to change.

No ghosts nor bald dolls bother to tell them. That it never does.

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