inter-ruption - 2/25/08

this is the final discussion, and it's covered in chocolate blood and liquid cherries, sifted out of you like skewered bugs standing for nothing but a sick forget-me-not, ridden and screaming the way couch cushions suck up your forty pound curled-up anti-body, feverish and aching, sipping ginger ale before throwing almost-empty cups into a forty-inch tv screen, licking up static-laced pixelated lie-to-you images of little boy soldiers handcuffed and mining diamonds while shooting guns and standing on wounded, bandaged heads, sending home i-love-you notes on paper made of ground-up casualties, bodies mounted like deer heads over the fireplace where you roast me, maroon wine dripping down backs while the knives are lined up nicely, black handle red handle blue handle stop. skies bending down while we sand-paper bodies into mountains feeling teeth make their way into skin drawing blood through pale sweaters that were made in old china and claim to keep us so warm.