Friday 5/04/2012 12:59:00 AM

drying markers. paper eyes. waiting on pupils. her thoughts yellow. her voice red. her body an outline. her cunt a rainbow. nothing the same. everything in colors. sparks of high and embers of low. quiet victims. impatient floods. damp matchsticks. masturbating on the stone.

her words like dirty fish hooks. poisoning the water. whispers. barely more. maybe less. grey autumns on the edge of the branch. gravity beguiling the severity of the fall. the nervous charm of the sunset. in the tender of her palm. just one stab and then there's blood. and life is ours again.

in the pink knot of her vagina. monsters weep like orphans. afraid and alone. her skin in gentle parables. quietly keeps the rhythm. of little girls far from home.

she doesn't speak. only listens. bartered cellars and the pins in those blackened windows. the thin glass smiles. as it tries her on. deaf with buttons and blind with zippers. like a child. like a fist. the rope burning through it fast. as if such things can be caught.

Years like daggers. Shallow cuts. The mercy of madness. In sobs and bullets. Forgetting. The vultures. The broken math of weak men determining the difference.

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