Photo by X.A. Medina (http://lepoet.tumblr.com/)
The cars came crashing at night. The lights flickered death as the accelerators got stuck in drive. Three attempts and he couldn’t make it into the city. He was paralyzed in the rotting suburbs with the thin televisions projecting beautiful people onto the faces of the fat ugly spectators. Insecurities drilled into their foreheads as their vacant eyes mist with boredom and apathy.
I sneezed into the bath water with disappointment. The Jewish skinhead poked him in the eye but he didn’t flinch. He wondered why he was crying out of one eye. He figured it was the drugs.
He moved massive boxes with his fingertips. His soft hands became rougher with each passing day.
The breasts were heavy with milk. The hearts light, the eye lashes blinked with romanticism and truism.
Serendipity was dead. I knew for it was me who put a bullet in her temple. It was me who removed each fingernail and toenail as though I was peeling a thick skinned orange.
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