Wednesday, February 2, 2011
sorry that was awful. nobody reads this anyway, so it doesn't matter. all of it is really just mind slate. vomitus i can't keep cerebral. pain i can't medicate. sound that refuses to remain silent. but the last ladybug of the season keeps clinking against my lightbulb and wonder when she'll die, or burn the fuse, or call her gentle mantis to take her away give her a couple of larvae for purpose. accident. i would have said something more refined, but i cried the last of my intelligence into my sweater. sat sobbing for the blood of people i never knew and still i felt the metal split between my ribs. what they love is farce, what they breed is fear.
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