The monster has always lived there between her thighs. She'd just never bothered to name it. The other hers from different futures sat. Sipping diet cola and debating the conundrum of how they had come to exist. Clearly uncertain that they actually did.
She had moved the island. That utopian purgatory that had made them so strong. She had moved everything. But it was all just where it began. They just couldn't see it. Shoe laces undone. As they ran. Not falling. Just collecting missteps.
The atom dances on the verge of time. Calm and erratic as it determines where this flesh will fall off. What bones will be left. The skeleton jokes. The molecule is only a guide. The blood is only the wishful thinking of dying men.
Who have lost everything else that matters.
The monster is deaf. These scabs say nothing.
Sunday
9/14/2008 12:41:00 AM
Sad Labels:
acceptance
,
dark art
,
daunted
| Life Poems |