Tuesday 3/15/2011 11:56:00 PM

if it dies. and it always does. there are still choices to be made.

the rain like velvet. teases the air. a million tiny tongues. salivating on the dark's ripe clitoris.

distances fetch the frail math from crevices thick with repetition. distraught children. their soiled diapers chapping their tender asses.

the architect is memory as the bricks siphon into walls. the structure is bound to all those shadows within it. the deaf ghosts that don't hear the siren. and the blind survivors that cannot find the exit. the condemned congregate. flies on mounds of shit. living and dying in relative fractions.

because the whole is gone. dull shards of skin. drowned in irony's urine.

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