Thursday 8/07/2008 01:00:00 AM

Liars. Bug bites. Scratching. to scold for all this missing skin.

The ladder in short poems. sad enough to ignore. So many vampires. Fangs close to the skin. Pretntious matadors tease the horns.

That was it. A series of questions. Drowned kittens spilling from dark buckets.

I meant to be kinder, but it's difficult.

I laughed at the sober as any addict would. Lovers like waterfalls. Tearing all these barrels apart.

Time comes in flinches. Punches of skin that make the heart blink. It cries that it can't see. But I know that it has always been blind.

She dresses the doll. In the remnats of old
men. She tells herself no one is looking. As she removes its head.

The poor detective between her thighs still stuck on the first clue.

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