Thursday 1/24/2008 12:01:00 AM

How does the doll stand up on soft legs. The wax still loathe to coagulate. She kneels. Barfing on empty thrones. Until the king calls her name.

The mold is cut in half to determine where the defect is. Be it in the product or the ideal.

Her taffy skin betrays her cause as she attempts negotiations with the robotic arms that have made her so. Blunt candy canes become daggers with enough licking. They woke me up, but forgot to tell the dream to stop. And now I can never be sure if I'm real or just imagining myself.

These soft skeletons struggling to hold up my many skins. Juggling the now against the then in sharply spinning plates. Fairy tales cinching tight like dry, raped vaginas.

Some careless burlesque act that doesn't know when to stop. Electric hymens. Corn kernels exploding to the thrill of paper bag penises.

We're all instant coffee. Dolls left without any clothes on them.

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