A self-indulgent monologue of fact and fiction.
The words and images are all my own, unless otherwise noted.
Don't steal my stuff; it's bad karma and I'll hunt you down and make you wish your mother had aborted you.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Edges
She acquired a shadow,
a dark one,
not quiet,
securing the perimeter,
seemingly irrelevant,
toxic,
like a mold between walls,
foul scented,
waiting.
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