Broken hooks. Graze the hem. Students of time. Heavy downpours steal the path. Be patient. Let's be lost for a while. See how we like it.
Torn maps. Fragments of getting there. Same beginnings. Ever evolving ends.
Debris in the storm. Patterns form the machine long before we've built it. Habits program the atom. Centuries prior to the hysteria of skin.
Naked. Choosing. Monkeys. Sure of their sticks. No monsters. Only men. Resembling them too well. No bargains with sleeping toads.
the world is angles. a smothering geometry of intersections.
Letters on the ink. Tip toes and seldom parades. Bits to bargain. Weak poisons on the hem of her lips. Numbers too sure. gowns doused in the drug. Waking up to the softer monsters. Sleeping next to the rest. Railroads in her breath. Rifles under her eyelids. She whispers a scream. No one listens. But everyone hears it.
Thursday
8/02/2012 12:46:00 AM
Sad Labels:
death
,
loneliness
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