Friday 12/31/2010 12:05:00 AM

We dig. Always searching for the bottom. Tunneling below having found nothing on the surface.

Weak tunnels choked in thick walls. Her fingers tearing the fruit from its skin. It's almost murder. The way she devours. Choices.

Shovel scraping. The ground beneath. A defeated song. Trying to reason with the darkness.

Her hours patient. As she paints the mountains. Colors they would never dare to be. Her years betray her. In the throttle of skin. The torque of her machine getting away from her.

Her paper faces all falling apart. Under the threat of rain.

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