Sunday 3/18/2012 12:42:00 AM

The empty fist. That beats. The prisoner in her ribcage kicking. Pictures and animals. Numbers and skin. The math is as ugly as it's ever been.

Listening. To that skipping record. I am.

The crippled dogs. The paper heavens. All taken by the wind.

Her eyes like matchsticks. Burn briefly. A needle in the darkness. Virulent for a thread. The hours turn. In their sickness. The orbit of confession. Discovers choices in all the wrong places. The pattern. Empty swings. Soft gardens. Sharp with the seeds of suicide. The years pretend. Choices heavy with absent gods.

Hungry wolves. Hide their fangs. Plastic eyes conceal their sight. Vision comes in kaleidoscopes. Fractal. Anxious. sharp blades close to the throat.

The fist. Pounds in her head. A thunder of blood. A whisper of flesh. The world counts out loud. Arrogantly assuming someone is listening.

She's a little pig. Arguing with the wolf. She's helpless. Inside her brick house. As the walls come tumbling in.

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