Thursday 10/04/2012 11:53:00 PM

yellow. like her sleep is. corrupt and foul with ladders and string. thin steps knotted together with fraying thread. small needles in the pale of her discontent. red. feeble sirens in the fog of how. red. loud crayons drawing the eyes on masks. empty skins. hollow faces. searching for whom to wear. orange. an ulgy marathon of skin. struggling with the race.

she has her petal. pink. she has her shadow. substance enough.

our desire evolves, though we do not. brute force defers to choice.

the blue settles. stretches across her face. the pierce of a needle in a filthy vein. nothing new. soldiers drowning in guns. nothing different. the same old wars still waiting to be won.

Dead things to dance with and ghosts to share the crown. Confident in this empty kingdom. Colors like numbers. Turning men inside out.

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