Thursday, April 02, 2009

the cardinal rule.

smoke made entirely of unravelled cassette tape. i become dark and ugly, covered in the age of rust. i fear the art of missing days, one less sequential than the last. there are no such things as ghosts, not since the insects moved in. headless body erupting hair. roses of dangling raw meat, hiding on the side of a rolling hill. they'll smell the poppies and move on.

i am properly introduced to morning.

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