Thursday, January 27, 2011

MOTEL ROOMS AND CANNIBALS

quite fond of motel rooms and cannibals
something about a brown battered chair
undead waiting
the footsteps and the rattle of a key at the door
brown battered chair spliced with a tomb
sleeping with your eerie glowering consciousness
your mind’s version of sleeping naked
the room an oily meniscus on your glass eye held down by coarse stitches, a sleeping waiting putrescence
quite boring, actually 

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