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She is a ghost, Now.
A chilling slice of wind that curls
around the hairs of your forearm.
Refusing to leave in such a fashion,
She is a ghost.
Taken not by the disease
that wracked the body,…
ContinuePosted on December 2, 2010 at 7:00pm — 6 Comments
Your skin is translucent, like fine china
I can see just far enough to discern your names,
To feel the spear-tip anger that built your fortress.
I wish I were prettier.
Not just better than the thieves and grifters…
ContinuePosted on November 21, 2010 at 2:49pm — 2 Comments
‘Makes wide right turns’…
I suspect it makes wide wrong turns, too.
This sign says “Runaway Truck Ramp”.
So, how did they know where to…
ContinuePosted on November 21, 2010 at 2:30pm — 2 Comments
She bears a mark
On the tip of one finger…
She has been cupped in madness’…
ContinuePosted on November 21, 2010 at 2:30pm — 3 Comments
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Again, welcome..
Lisa