Friday 1/16/2009 12:25:00 AM

One number. Maybe two between us. Tin hands and Iron eyes. Hold the cold and the heat. I'm just a fiction. A story no one ever told. Of the girl the prince never came to save.

The pregnant shark chews her belly open. So she can eat her baby. Because she longs to feed it.

Lips like bacon. Rendered raw. Curling. Crackling. In a pan of skin close to the flame. The grease everywhere. Heavy with the process of finding the meat in so much lard.

We have to go back, but we never will. Because lies are what make life hospitable. The future in long division. Carrying the remainders with us. Torn eyelids helplessly watching the scene. As the world rolls passed in a snake of empty cargo trains. The rapid echo of nothing inside. As it goes away all over again.

The dial. Guilty with my fingerprints. A stoic machine at the center of an infected wound. The useless brake. The manic accelerator stuck to my shoes. The inevitable crash. Like medicine.

As I begin undoing.

What never was.

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