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Post by Kitten on Jul 11, 2005 11:57:22 GMT -5
IXXX
Another day is killed, slowly dripping off my fingertips. I look up, amazed that even the sky is liquid dirt.
I smile, eager. The blind sun cuts in through the strata with scarce warmth and a requiem.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 11, 2005 11:58:15 GMT -5
XXX.
Behind concrete walls with painted swastikas are the abandoned factories, victims of age and apathy.
Thick grime on thin glass, rusting train wagons, slanted and hidden in the grass.
Toy houses blink by with dull colors and symmetry carved into its timber sides.
Rust is everywhere, on fences, nails and faces of the hung over men standing on the platforms.
Middle aged mothers, slouching, with wrinkles like battle scars hang on to their plastic bags and sons.
Frozen markets, frozen crowds, frozen windows are illuminated with virgin beams of light.
I witness the stirring, the palpitation of rural life.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 11, 2005 11:59:21 GMT -5
XXXI.
Orphan.
He is nameless, but he is still my brother.
He sits alone in the box and he draws hunger.
Grey skin is stretched over his bird like bones.
He’s cold, he’s got a runny nose.
I watch, detached and guilty.
I am a murderer too.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 11, 2005 16:03:37 GMT -5
XXXII.
Home is mandatory rest after a life long journey.
Home is unconditional belonging.
Home is when I step over the threshold, the molecules of past still linger here.
Or maybe home is just a place, a location of previous nurture. A certain arrangement of furniture, chairs, tables and wallpaper. Stability while everything else has been modified to fit the demands of the future.
A race of clouds outside the windows, running colors on asphalt and spurring ants beneath my feet.
Our lives have metamorphosed into a beast, a pulsating mechanism.
The city’s chomping teeth grind and digest us daily.
But home is supposed to be haven, where we could hide behind these walls locked doors, no light and cozy kitchen safe.
Now we’re all grown up, aged, changed and selfish.
Home is a volcano where we simmer. Home is where love hates the most.
I want to turn away, sink and bite back my need to scream.
I am overfilled with pity.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 11, 2005 16:04:29 GMT -5
XXXIII.
Fear is the backbone of every act .
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Post by Kitten on Jul 11, 2005 16:05:16 GMT -5
XXXIV.
Parental love is ownership by the possessive fiends.
But we did not choose to come into this world.
We owe you nothing.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 11, 2005 16:06:12 GMT -5
XXXV.
shedding thistle gloves, shedding skin, shedding blood, the trails leave harsh stains on carpets, shedding light into the mouths of liars to scorch their tongues and tonsils.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 11, 2005 16:08:04 GMT -5
XXXVI.
Counterintelligence agent offered first hand experience, war stories at midnight, horror stories at midnight and Cognac gurgled in the plastic cups.
Dismissed his concussion then fell asleep to the rhythm of train wheels clunking.
...but I was sleepless.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 11, 2005 16:11:15 GMT -5
XXXV. The Metro is a bee hive, an antique museum with torches and chandeliers. The escalators take us deeper, deeper where we get lost.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 12, 2005 14:21:34 GMT -5
XXXVI.
A patch of pink, like filling in the center, the clovers carpeted the field.
I was hiding in the trenches, hiding in wildflowers.
Mosquitoes got a bite of me and prying flies explored my toes.
With wind in one ear and thunder in the other, I played dead in a bed of moist rose clovers.
The birches whispered. The sky was metal.
I made a wish.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 12, 2005 14:32:24 GMT -5
XXXVII.
The church bells knelled by a river bed, their crystal voices sang, soared and pled as I neared closer.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 12, 2005 14:34:13 GMT -5
XXXVIII.
I strolled through a wall of pretty girls.
I beamed.
I hope they thought I was insane.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 12, 2005 14:34:43 GMT -5
XXXIX.
In a poplar country I am a polar bear, meandering on all fours and kicking summer snow.
Fluff settled on my shoes and the sun was sleek in my eyes.
But I got no love from the onlookers and my paws thawed.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 12, 2005 14:35:34 GMT -5
XL
We sat in a tight knit circle, drank beer in the dark and laughed, pretended that we were happy or maybe for a moment we forgot that we were not.
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Post by Kitten on Jul 12, 2005 14:35:56 GMT -5
XLI.
He said he dreamt of me two nights in a row.
Today we finally met, pupils dilated and he kissed my hand.
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