Sunday 3/04/2012 12:07:00 AM

the blunt of the needle speaks in whispers. hissing strays. scratch at the hand with the meat in it. dull blades. a gentle trickle of meth. slow down this dying. stretch it out like a rubber band. tighter. thinner. as I wait for it to snap.

her muddy rainbow. all the colors running together. her quiet stage. all dialogue forfeit.

there is an end. a knot at the end of that thread. a long confession of poisons. hesitant, but willing.

there are no monsters. they were only excuses. the small flame burns just as hot as the biggest inferno. the dead things sleep not in the graves we've dug for them. But keep us awake. as we shed the burden of those skins.

the counsel of drugs begs her live. for one more taste. of that foul heaven. paradise is the worst kind of treason.

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