Friday 8/16/2013 12:41:00 AM

bent shadows scrape the ceiling. searching for a limit. the heat builds. in empty ovens. travellers boast their paths in sour candies. if the future knew her. surely it would admit. the end is thick and grey. musty with old knots and soiled bandages.

the entrance swells with virulent predators. the rim grips her. in a spectacle of weakness. gravity shouts. in its husky whisper. like running water. the beautiful monsters of men. drowning in the gorgeous tucks and folds of simple choices.

the edges of the paper sharp. the little dolls dancing. on whims of ink and eager strangers. her busy buckets hungry for more. distant claws find the crease. the color bleeds in calm confessions. the scabs form slower than expected.

candy houses with all the lights out. revel darkly in the cost of witches.

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