Thursday, June 24, 2010

Inky blue, she gives in to you, she takes you home and away from home and in the dark tunnel there she waits, lonely hot, like fire, like waste, like the sticky smell of rubbish in the heat and there’s no end to her waiting, her patience, her simple, easy smile, and she takes your hand and leads you away from me and I can’t stop her, not this death, not this woman waiting in the darkness like a dancer with veils, revealing nothing, she takes you slowly and then faster, and the ache of death is nothing compared to the smell of rubbish in the heat.

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