211 Readings

3 Stories

Writing annie
Slipping paper into pottery slow limbed moving toward the record player whiskey and relaxer swearing ceramic bloody mouths 
Cathedral candle ashtrays
Her mind is moving as slowly as the trip hop base
Slow steps, and looks like a geisha
In her perfect movements
Wing alight to the sky
They're all around you
Sitting on magic carpets, red hooded
Shedding skin
Two of her
Black haired, pale as ghosts
More real,her hair could lead horses
No one here will ever drown, and no one here will ever
Be alone,
And no one here will ever die.
Posted 02/10/13
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