Saturday 8/07/2010 12:17:00 AM

the crocodile in her soup laughs through broken fangs. and missing scales. the steam lurches upward. in frantic maps of hidden windows. absent doors swing open. but where they are is still unknown. the hours scream. but she cannot hear. everything is so loud. except the way out of here.

the corridor terminates in a rapier of light. full with sounds and commotion. the end is distant. more so with each step. she counts the drops of water in the ocean. determined to know how many it has. she counts on her fingers. and she counts on her toes. she must prove there is an end.

a box in the darkest corner. what's inside knows not what's out there. And all the eyes upon it. Cannot guess about its contents. it's just a box. it contains anything we want. so long as we don't look inside.

she flirts with the numbers on the precipice. crippled birds too eager to fly again. determining the series. brick by brick. arguing with gravity. and losing. this time.

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