tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704333.post-62896617386945602042008-07-04T23:50:00.003-04:002008-07-05T00:16:29.793-04:002008-07-05T00:16:29.793-04:00

Come the saints in manic pause. Laden with paradise obese. And starving doors. Play. With broken toys in hollow rooms where no one talks. Children lost in over sized skins. Rewinding the highs of crashing Edens. Face the bed. Coax the choice. In stumbles of trust that inevitably betray delicate demons. Not as evil as they thought they were. Trace the wrinkles in the dark with a heavy finger.

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