Monday 1/31/2011 12:26:00 AM

when it rains we assume it will stop. when it snows we imagine the flood. when it is warm again. when it's over we return to where it began. leeches in the marrow of gods. hollowing out their bones for a place to hide.

when it hurts we pretend it's temporary. bacteria in the soft tissue. to be steadily eliminated. the cure the same as the life. the shrink of the moment as its fist closes. the clatter of bones. like dice. chance is everything. lord and Satan. chance is what we are. the stumble of evolution. pukes us up. shits us out. in a hot stream of diarrhea. in the chaos of starvation. cannibals are kings.

when there are words we write them. when there is silence we listen. when there is nothing blame it. for the monsters we've become.

wayward strings between then and now. kites close to the sun. the stubborn inchworm inside the pages. unprepared for the book to close.

Sunday 1/30/2011 12:44:00 AM

stepping stones of glass. fists of clay. the harder they become, the more easily they break.

the rooms are empty. the house is dark. still, the windows are thick with finger painted scars.

time hurries to keep up with our manic pace. a long rope at the end of short chain.

playing with her stories. burnt paper and withering dolls. frail under the weight obvious choices. and the ache of the things we want.

sour is the winter's tit. as we suckle its frozen milk. becoming as cold ourselves. choices pretend to find us. just as we do them.

small clowns bleeding through their makeup. needles without thread. naked enough to chance a taste of heaven. knowing it might be their last.

Saturday 1/29/2011 12:21:00 AM

cradling the demon. the salt still on her tongue. as she licks the wounds. candy houses perpetuate the myth. of salvation. the hiss of the engine. propelling nothing. the whince of the brakes. as we stop again.

in the empty space between villain and victim. where all lovers live.

her cardboard skin. undone by the rain. it's just a storm. amongst many. anothera footprint on her grave. a jumble of ghosts. toting empty baskets.

The picnic already over. Her gods all in heels. Tripping over themsleves. A little friction on the matchbook. is light enough.

To determine the depth of the darkness.

Thursday 1/27/2011 01:08:00 AM

the numbers are stolen from sleeping victims. weak doses of drug scarcely sufficient to offer us when. the math is easy. stray birds shiting on the square. the division is different. the scrape of fangs on her faces as she closes her eyes. the howl of hunger keeping the predators awake.

the numbers are loaned to us. but sun, moon and apathy. she multiplies the monsters and subtracts the years. the desperate equations of a child without a trail. Left amongst the trees and the barren. To suffer any exit it can find.

There are portions. The sum. In black tongues. The remainder something else all together. Feeble choices fortified by the muscle of touch. The struggle of empty skin to break free of these fragile bones.

there are numbers. they always change. they never do. blinking obituaries. determined to prove the math. that is overlooked by flesh and bone.

Tuesday 1/25/2011 01:19:00 AM

When it was. a choice. decision eclipsing triumph. when it was roses. all the thorns still intact. and there was still the blood to trust. wounds didn't need bandages. only time.

when we wore those playgrounds. in fraying dresses. the child never complained. because who would listen.

when we travelled. meeting the end at the beginning. we assumed we were special. but we were wrong.

the sticky onion skin. decisions. the blunt pencils. consequence. they each have their lies.

pieces of the doll. easily becoming property. the ghosts at the mouth of the fountain. drowning. because the dead cannot swim. the forest concealed by the trees. revealing. its broken branches. sprints through time diminishing. the value of having lived it.

moments write our lifetimes. in coughs and sneezes. the virus of humanity still lacking a cure.

it takes me there. in angry stabs. removing the moment from under my feet. it asks questions. and it answers them. as if I'm not even there.

promising to fill these hollows skins with bones its still too weak to lift.

Monday 1/24/2011 12:19:00 AM

the fruit is anxious. the tongue even more so. to taste. swallow the both the meat and the skin. steal from the vine. delicate flowers sweet with morning's dew. and thorny roses wet with the blood of admirers.

her thighs ripen regardless of sun. blossoming full and wide. a sun bursting from an eggshell. the soft yellow center thickening to the heat of touch. each moment arranged. a library of lovers. to scribble on her costume. as she discards her mask.

an army with empty guns. vultures hungry for the dead. not killing. just taking what the killing has left.

the sun might yet rise again, but even if it doesn't. i will remember.

the dirty bandages we used to cover our wounds. the apples that convinced. paradise was not enough.

Sunday 1/23/2011 12:25:00 AM

the hours resolve to the years between us. the hostile math of neglected skin. she wears the why's like soiled panties. misunderstanding the red between her legs.

in one life there are a million choices. in two lives there are none.

time travels through us. in darts and bullets. yet we go through it like liquid. piss and blood. puddles in the palm of its fist. small windows in the rotting walls that fashion this prison.

the hours spill from my mind like spoiling shit. the spectacle of choices. shouting about the windows. i've broken to prove. they can be harnessed. if not possessed. doors. between. how and when. shaking catapults. wrestling with the ropes.

one life. too many choices. bridges failing. giving us away to the chasm below. even by the measure of villains. we are alone.

Saturday 1/22/2011 12:57:00 AM

the stitches flirt with the wounds. practical applications for blood. the ghosts tease the stairs. everything is in between. there is nowhere to go.

she climbs for years. the bottom holding her there. the stumble of burning feathers interrupts her dream. flight comes at a price. the mania resolving to empty skins.

crawling out of one. a slave to the next. the husks we leave behind. a dubious shelter. for angels and demons. for poisonous snakes robbed of their venom.

the pain comes in strobe lights. seizures of when. the cold was patient. and choices still chose to let us decide.

the moment. the window. smothered in darkness. the still of the glass. as it promises reflection.

the hurricane of her choices. enters fiercely and leaves like a kitten. she scratches at the glass. blunt claws leave only bruises for the monsters to reference. as we resume this slow healing.

Friday 1/21/2011 12:45:00 AM

she spends her time on small puzzles. because the big one are too simple. she writes the equations on her skin. imagining a series of choices the math did not deliver. nervous piglets bathed in the breath of wolves.

she argues with the moon. a long series of knots to undo. the afterwards are what she hates. frozen faces like thimbles pushing needles through. closing holes with the empty trapped inside. picking flowers. from swollen graves.

the small puzzles are solved. the skin decides how close. the bigger riddles will have to wait.

Wednesday 1/19/2011 01:19:00 AM

service the monsters. they are your only friends. measure the fangs on the wolf. learn. how deep its bite can go.

empty nightgowns search for the child. as her frantic footprints smear the blood. a kaleidscopes of conditions. better suited to zippers than to fists. a trail of red. in a blue world. the heavy of hte purple weighs me down. their metal teeth begin to open and all her insides fall out. meat on the table. for anyone's fork.

predators, like angry algorithms. finding. all the secrets. the girl in her ragged pajams. still closer than I am to the key. the sour confection that would let us out.

the molten candy of her thighs. deep enough to drown. the puppet under her skin. still dancing. long after the music has failed.

deaf villains. all their bombs defused.

and me. with no one left to blame.

Monday 1/17/2011 01:00:00 AM

i wallow in the choices. provisions of flesh. arrogant enough to assume. they know what i need. i indulge the darkness. naive enough still to think there is light in it.

tracing the mountains. through the thin of my fingers. as the ice comes down. in fervent voices. the small gods smaller beings must worship. to find their place in the world.

practical drugs on the thresholds of failing heavens. the animals empty skins. would've been shelter enough. had the winter ended when it should've.

but it goes on. long after the last frost has bitten down on our lips. some invisible predator. reminding us that we are alone.

frantic chickens. no one listening. as the sky falls down. tadpoles drowning in obvious choices. of gods and primates.

bones. draped in skin. preparing for heaven. bracing for hell.

Those choices deciding. Which we'll become.

Sunday 1/16/2011 12:18:00 AM

the wolf in its crutches eyes the house of the pigs. monsters are not half the threat of saviors. the victims. the villains. the difference is seconds. we live the lives assigned to us and wait for the hoax of heaven. we tell the stories are we see them. and let history determine. if we chose the right side. until even history forgets us.

barking at the gods we pretend are watching over. corrupt with vanity of our importance. in a universe where everything is small. it makes sense to imagine something bigger.

in a world ripe with doors. it's no wonder we are drawn to the windows. no one wants to go there. but we all want to see it. the bottom. that proves we've fallen far enough.

1/16/2011 12:00:00 AM

we wait for the world to end. each of us sitting on our bombs. dancing to the music of the countdown. we wait for so many things. the sunrise. the snow. the darkness. the cycle. carefully stealing the touch from our fingers.

we scrape the ground. in unison. groaning shovels digging. for a bottom. we never imagined could be buried so deep. it's cold. it's heavy. it's not anything except a choice. whether or not to keep searching. for the things we'll never have. the wanting is all that's needed.

people have a way of recovering. finding. something in nothing. spoiling the game by not wanting to win. only to survive.

but i don't understand people at all.

Saturday 1/15/2011 12:14:00 AM

the lock opens. in fits of consequence. dominoes. nudging. us. toward the nothing. gravity's open fist catching. all the little pieces. sharp and heavy. that we've left behind.

she stretches the arrow. the point becomes. the beginning and the end. and all that's in between. small lies blossoming. the whole world our porch light. and still it's dark.

the strays move through her garden. blood and teeth defend the void. tiny flowers process the confessions. of the innocent.

they're only doors. gateways to places I've been before. they were always open. the butterflies don't understand. how powerful they are.

the world ends where it began. in clenching fists. wanting more.

the weight of nothing is a heavy load.

Friday 1/14/2011 12:29:00 AM

the masks confer. skin debates. what is debt. what has already been paid. cracks in the glass. play with the equations. but the math is weak. and it forget the feel. of loose skin. all the small stitches that make it fit.

the villain comes with many names. so you won't remember. the trial churns. a blind tornado. deciding what to obliterate.

it's all the same.

empty hammocks. the grace of the wind. pretending to know. missing fingers. grabbing at the broken pieces. a picnic basket. a wolf in her bed. such big teeth.

a choice. so many of them. not asking.

everything too small. to see. i might be too far away. but too close is just as likely.

the drum. the caution. of stomping feet. little lies to make the night pass more quickly.

the outlines filling in. the fire finding its rage.

Wednesday 1/12/2011 12:57:00 AM

travelling time is easy. it's the getting back that's hard. the world blinks and everything is gone. sand under her fingernails. washed away.

she spends her days taming tigers with feathers and lace. her nights saving the world from drizzle and dandelion wisps.

it ends she supposes as weakly as it began. a grunt from a hoarse throat. am anchor grazing the bottom. as the boat drifts away.

that's the strange thing about dolls. they never speak, but always have so much to say.

that's what we are. isn't it. just dolls. wearing the clothes put on us. staying where we've been placed. saying nothing. while the words press against the stitches. that make us whole.

travelling time is easy. it's finding the beginning that's difficult. wings and cocoons all caught up in the worm. raindrops and snowflakes. all fall the same way.

down.

Tuesday 1/11/2011 01:02:00 AM

she waits for the blizzard. knowing it is coming. eventually. absent pigs in the huff of the wolf. small houses blown down. nothing inside them. except the ghosts that refuse to leaves.

we have our choices. in the crouches of flames. the hot and cold. in their oblivious juxtapositions. as if we're just peripheral. don't matter at all.

the atom on her smile. colliding. with the ones from her stare. the explosion has its merits. but those pieces. they always come back together. there is no cheating the monsters. as they are the same as us.

there are no lies that we can tell them. our truths are what they are made of. joyless propositions. dents in the sand. as we sway. as our kites lose their strings. and we watch them. leaving us.

broken tiles underfoot. turning over. empty boxes in the attic.

Monday 1/10/2011 12:57:00 AM

the numbers resolve. wolves in the pantry. fangs and all. her choices in chalk. gone with the obvious lessons. of devils and their dubious bargains.

the torches. pierce the darkness. while she reminisces on when the choices were not so sharp. the moment. and instant prison. brick and step. questioning where it came from. how it will end.

the boxes and the bow ties. a formal redress. gathering the empty. on barbed hooks. measuring the end. one face at a time.

the poison on her arrows failing to slay the beast. the heaven in her pocket too small to let us in.

Sunday 1/09/2011 12:39:00 AM

counting. as though time knows where we began this list. stories. empty beds. small coffins. big heavens.

the numbers close. the flesh closer yet. lazy tales told by bleeding lips. the forest. ripe with trees. the end content to let us find it. the paradox. that i should find myself there. a small thread. at the corner of the world. needing a pull. a lion. asleep next to the lamb. waking up hungry.

she sees world she knows can't be there, but is. the simple temptations of choice. i could have it, but if i did, would i want it anymore. i could worship the avalanche. but it wouldn't bury me any less.

the moments fuss over their pawns. forgetting to protect their king. an easy checkmate. time drags its monsters through our skin. trying to convince us. there are choices. other than this.

This world is broken. and we are the crutches. that bring it to the edge.

Friday 1/07/2011 11:55:00 PM

hours wizened by the years. the desert of her grin solving for the dead. the dancing dolls wake up the stage. a bright blush of humility pushes the dirt into her eyes. devious numbers. attempt to cheat the equation. thick brushes. caked with paint. devouring the shadows these dark corners create.

what monsters she wonders might be hiding under her skin. what futures fester in the pus of her infections. spoiling in the depths of her sickness. the covet of the numbers as she discovers zero again.

no places. only theories. boxes. filled with experiments. the missing. the lost. the obvious. dead things scratching to get out.

empty boxes. too heavy to lift.

Wednesday 1/05/2011 11:44:00 PM

salamander tongues. nudge the words toward submission. the hours cope with stick and drum. beating the years out of fraying skins.

infinity arrives in a dazzle of lips and a thunder of when. the arrows trace her grin. with blunt precision. dogs chewing on the bones in perpetuity's fragile fist. inside it. seams. needles. missing threads.

the fortunate admonitions of thieves and orphans.

the circle that taunts a beginning never to be found. the snow that falls. gone before it touches the ground. it's just the weather. nothing we can change.

Tuesday 1/04/2011 12:46:00 AM

she waits for the worst. knowing it's coming. same earthquake. different places.

she carries the doll. by fraying limbs. same blood. different tears.

the math tries to know us. maybe, occasionally, it even does. the forgiveness of numbers. in divided skin. talking to the clowns. reasoning with the choices. as if they were ever ours.

the mud. where she crawled. the snow melting where she slept. the masks. cold accessories to so many murders. the truth. trying on its lies again. it doesn't fit. but it will. if we are patient.

the world in missing elephants. the things we couldn't take with us. calling us back. to look again. at what it was we had. and what we thought we didnt'.

we travel. as if we've been everywhere. we arrive and we leave the same. as if we were never there. digits on the counter. winds on the cliff. strangers call god. when they are afraid to jump.

the hole in her belly that is certain. that the dead still listen. long after we can't hear them anymore.

Monday 1/03/2011 12:59:00 AM

the barter comes in trembling ghosts. each grave begetting the next. the deal is closed in shattered windows. the hunger looking in on arrogant feasts. the lamb becomes a lion. and only blood can reset the scales.

small steps. through the abundant cold. we move on cracking crutches. toward heavens we know are not real. we heal on splintering nooses. pretending to sleep when no one is looking. always searching for the wolves in our grandmother's beds.

she's counting. as if numbers could foretell. she's counting. as if numbers are poison enough. to kill the suspicion. that there is life. in this pile of flesh.

time's weak strokes of medicine. Only prolong our deaths.

Sunday 1/02/2011 12:03:00 AM

the stone under her heel. subtle masks. weightless burdens. the light climbs the curtains. repeating songs. muted instruments. she hears the future. in cold coughs. and hollows breaths. a tunnel. a godless church. suffocating in hope.

toys. pieces to move. as the game plays us.

the monsters that once were human. pulling open their zippers to show her the proof. she already knows that there is little difference between monsters are men. so what can they teach her?

stones. on the places where she walks. fists in each footstep. crippling the distance. between then and now. the years. crawling on their scabby knees. borrowed faces. still pretending our lives.

Her party dress all stained. In colors no one else can see. Her monsters. All of them human.

Saturday 1/01/2011 12:27:00 AM

the earth recognizes. well-worn shoes. one machine into the next. a tedious derivative. of futile touches. grabbing at the numbers. as if they are more than mere markers. road signs to the abyss. clutching the math. as if it can tell us where we are.

pissing stars and naked moons. press their noses to the glass. looking in on faint gods. as they feast. on empty plates. what was ours. or we thought was. a hungry mouse in an infinite maze. rotting pieces of cheese. we can smell, but cannot taste.

she fondles the engine. coaxing it to hum. its bitter song. years wasted on those that came before. a lifetime of dolls. each one crippled with the want. for more.

choices. that interrupt living. wet torches. in fields of fire. we don't burn, but we wish we had.

it's not enough just to lose. we need to be defeated.

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