There may have be ladders. Or ascension mechanisms of some sort. Steps of barbed wire. Nooses of laughter. The beauty of women is in their effortless power. Just sit. Look pretty and wait for the world to stop spinning.
Her eyes were closed. His penis was close to her lips. She didn't really taste anything other than disappointment. She opened her eyes are ttried to imagine something more elegant.
She could feel the cotton trying to find her as she dosed the darkness. Long gowns insisting she wear them. Even if they didn't fit.
Take it apart later she told herself. The pieces will always be available. Blame the mediator she shouted. This false prophet called our skin. I take it off. It just grows back again.
Saturday
4/26/2008 01:19:00 AM
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