Monday, December 1, 2008


My fingers are gnawed; beyond 
recognition, the bruise in the middle of
my left hand throbs through the _____
running along the blue roads. 

It is destroyed. 

If you find her limp against 
your touch (no doctor can
revive) then please know if was
all done for your stubbornness. 

The water is up to her toes
now, the yellow tint of the curtain
on her thinning skin, and with
each of your word-daggers they
take her life slowly. 

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