2.16.2007

{the wolves won't make us better.}




















she warms up and laughs hollow alone in a room on the east side of a town growing fonder. shadow-boxing herself into a corner. where the computer is. where the wine is. where the words are. there's no smoking this one out. not ever. she's making secret plans and counting money. taking things too seriously and always considering who the fool might be. if only they knew how much i didn't want to love them. she thinks in silence. they will eat you alive and not even know it. you'll throw yourself into their breakfasts. and they will blindly swallow without glancing. this is the new dimension of self. where ideas aren't solidified. every coin is double-headed. there are no erasers. and all the pages have to be filled before the sun is allowed to come up. but it's never under control. she thinks of secrets that can't be kept. and now says .:memories remember me:. wishing that she didn't and knowing full well of the desires. if only i were better. for now my house is mine. and i must keep quiet. i'm sorry for that. but it will make me better. if only i'd recognized fear when it came to my door with all that alcohol in hand. i would have called that man a liar. not that he was a man. i don't remember.

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