Monday 3/05/2012 12:40:00 AM

she flies at the terminal velocity of if. one edge. dulled by confidence. one blade. only a broken handle to hold. the paraffin. the melting wax. stubborn ghosts. beating a thunder of shadows. in the myth of an absent grief.

the quake of her eyelids. the hunger of sleep. as she drifts. further from the puzzle. Closer to the solution. the answer she would scrape from its fractured limbs. bits of blood. chunks of skin. a stew pot of saviors all drenched in eager corpses. all too patient funerals. ripe with earnest ghosts.

the hurried grin. the stench of now. weak and petulant. like sirens in the ghetto. the homicide of touch. frail and angry and confident. an empty ambulance.

fatigued under an abundance of when. counting the steps. between god and poison. chasing the world. on brittle crutches. calculating the distance. between suicide and addiction.

she runs. lips open. eyes wide. the world in front of her striking like lightning bolts. she sings. she dances. scribbling in the mud. as the storm approaches.

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