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Tuesday, March 27, 2007


Tomorrow Never Comes.

Pretty knife.
Slice trough green flesh.
Gold blood, pretty blood.
Lick it, it tastes good.

Patterns of scars.
Twisting patterns of scars.
Texture feels nice
beneath calloused fingers.

Past is trapped
in the past.
Nothing can bring them back.
Keen to the air,
to the trees,
to the nervous village
in the tree tops.

Loneliness is powerful.
What else can eat
at the soul
until one is just
an empty shell
of what one once was?

Not interested in food.
When they put it beside the bed
slide it into the trash.
Instead, pick up the knife
and slide it through green flesh.

************

Yeah, this is about my character Kayo. Emo, isn't he?


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