Thursday, February 5, 2009

The skin stretched tight over the penciled bones, malnourished.
I live to see hunger in the eyes and the beauty there not eating. 
To stop breath. 

There was something about the way she held her hair; as if
to keep it from soiling. And the part, it would lift from her scalp
at any moment. 

The he, pierced the fat of her fingernail, clear liquid 
ran from the needle. 

Attached to her is a frozen child. 

They are falling off cliffs together

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