Saturday 3/15/2008 12:43:00 AM

I can't hear you as you talk with your porn. Droll tributaries concede to the mass of scattered skin. Broken. Absolved. Of sins bet too soft. I keep looking for victims and am always sad to find I am the only one left.

The ocean struggles to reach the sand. Devour the footprints left by errant lovers. I was wrong. Still am. Eyes of ink imagining men. Disguised in traces of the truth. Fragments of time too busy with mitosis to notice the deserts forming under the grass.

It doesn't take long to live. It takes much effort to love. Until we attempt to combine those two paradoxes.

Her heels were sharper. Sharper than she was. Wooden syringes in veins made of concrete. Like I could feel. Or ever have. Your heavens interrupted. Your bald gods with their bent tails.

Still telling their stories. The blank page my purgatory. The sky raining down upon us in thick leaves. As if I'd ever listened. To anyone other than myself.

Saviors still sharpening their pencils for the test that isn't ours.

Every answer uncovering more questions.

For the time being, this is my god.

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