Monday, September 1, 2008

Aimless, Unorganized, Retreat

Sunburn

"And she'll burn our horizons make no mistake"
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We are infested with ants. Crawling and small and repulsive near lunch and dinner. I make ridiculous death threats to their families and leave lying bodies by their little hole, sneering and swearing.
Ammonia dashes like teargas to eyeless runaways.

Knows the motif, climbing by my wrists to shoulders and leaving the scratch because it was never there.

Knows I'll leave, surrendering to a minute reason to step me outside, out to the air that makes me sense everything around me.

Knows I'll question, right to where I sit, as I stare at a couple, packing? A day so blue that even a jogger would jog by a greeting, as I concluded the couple for a day out.

Knows my reflection there, I'll analyze, and critique and see the disarray of my hair, looking more like who I should be by the day.

Knows I'll come back in, nothing out for me but the moment of solitude I hadn't willfully chosen. I can't bring myself to think so optimistically, not even to Hello day.

But it never knew, that the march in front of my eyes, would send me to considering action and consequence even more potent than I'd seen before.

I'm not logical, I'm not rational. I'm insane and rash. And quite masochistic, too. But what the hell does that leave the marks that I could forget in about... oh, three more blinks of the eye.

I guess I was just, looking for an excuse to tell someone something. Because these days leave me alone in an empty, echoing cave, with the roof caving in. And I don't know what to say to the echo that relentlessly tries to get me to tell all my secrets...
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ARCHIVE, FUCKERS (for Ace-like purposes)