Tuesday 1/19/2010 12:41:00 AM

Chemicals and sickness. Flaunt their grave paradise. It rains. Hard. Everyday. It's cloudly on the others. I can't see anything that isn't close enough to grab. I can't reach far enough to do that.

Dirty bones fill the porch. The dark rings her doorbell, but she refuses to answer. Dirty bones rife with the meat we should've eaten. Diseases under the skin playing cliched ballads on what's left of her fingers.

I find the stories in the ugliest of places. Where no intruder has ever ventured inside me. I find all the hiding places in this addiction we call living.

A circus. Of hungry rats and three legged dogs. Hard penises and soft hearts.

Love is sparse. Sex is dense.

And the world moves so slowly. That I almost want to save it.

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