Sunday 3/11/2012 01:29:00 AM

there is that hole. terribly permanent. the sculpture of woman. hollow as it were. as it must be so. the empty vessel of life. echoes false without something growing inside it.

it's sad how they struggle to fill that void. the pieces fit. to be sure. but the picture is incomplete.

she scribbles. in puke and xanax. a fatal poetry. as if there is any other kind. she slips into that dress. a foul princess. eager to bleed.

the words betray. ticking clocks. the future arriving sooner than anticipated. every touch a target. Every breath a siege. this skin is a war. this flesh is a treason.

there is peace in addiction. there is cure in death. everything else is only ghosts. Marley's rattling their chains at indifferent Scrooges.

the dream wakes her up. choices. like needles full of heroin. choices stab the vein.

everything is empty. everyone is a stranger.

and she falls in love with the anonymity. hungry for the dirt that surrounds their graves.

the world measures men by their wounds.

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