May 01, 2010

Pro

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Moon haze stains the window. My eyes are too heavy for the cotton sheets. They are nothing, here. They are no-one’s and they are nothing. 


Heels arch. Toes curl. Lips like a fist and take it. Take it.


And again, back pressed to the grey duvet. Silence and zips. And breathing through my nose. Silence and turning the light back on. Silence and then door lock. 


I’m wearing a nightgown. Ribbon around my waist. I don’t need the money when I’ve got ribbon. Ribbon for the world. And my hair can be ribboned and I can find a tree and I can climb the tree and I can see a field from the branch-


Feet flat on the duvet. Grease hair, white shoulder. Something happens.


I don’t know if that’s the moon or just pollution. I hear there’s too much pollution.


My fingers are fingers, and I touch the glass lightbulb. The searing lightbulb. I touch it with my fingernail and scour nothing. Feet flat on the duvet. Ribbon around my waist. Lips like a claw and I touch it. Touch it. 


I door click, I light off, I breathe through my nose. Zips and silence. And I breathe through my nose. And again, back pressed to the grey.


And I want to peel the moon haze and press it to my face. All around my face, so I see nothing but the mist and the impression of a star in the glass of my eye. And I have eyes, and I can swallow, choke, I can choke the dark and. And something happens.


A lightning flash. Or a choke, and die.


Silence and zips. And door click. And grey, again. My eyelids are too thin for the yellow ceiling. They are no-one’s and they are nothing.


Duvet feet. Upright and I caress the glass of the lightbulb. There is a man, down on the street. I know I can see a man. My fingers creep to the metal at the top of the cold glass. And my claw is like a fist. And my fist is like a fist. And my feet are fists. The ceiling is a fist and it punches, and I throw the lightbulb smash, and I dance, fuck it, fuck it, I dance with my fists and I hope for the moon and there is brown, everywhere. 


Soaking the blood. 


Door click. Silence and zips. It will be morning, soon.


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