the not-so-reverend ray gunn (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} raygunn_revival) wrote,@ 2005-04-14 14:46:00 |
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"Meat: The Flesh Failures"
I liked it when he ________ my ________ while I ________ him. With the firebugs in my ribcage I projected my lung’s shadow onto his bare back. He’d lean over my prone body, the disguise of my prone body like a tundra on holiday doing backstrokes in capricornish water. Lean over just like that and the fish would evolve, as if he’d snuffed a candle between thumb and forefinger where the lightning bolts came out. That he died, I’m not certain; it may just be that I started to move backward and everything else stayed still. Fixtures in the scenery snort past when I stick my head out the window. I count each snort and catalog its shape. Even looking down I can’t tell which of us is moving.
It’s spring, and I’m so very tired of the con my body is running.
For example: There was the street that ran past his hovel, where I saw the parked car. The butcher in the backseat with the large dead pig. Through the open door I watched him ________ its ________ while he ________ it. It’s strange but blood can cloud as well as clot. Maybe it does both inside us. The sidewalk was uneven and he looked up. “The fuck you looking at?”
That the pig was dead, I’m not certain. That may have just been the con it was running.
© 2005
I liked it when he ________ my ________ while I ________ him. With the firebugs in my ribcage I projected my lung’s shadow onto his bare back. He’d lean over my prone body, the disguise of my prone body like a tundra on holiday doing backstrokes in capricornish water. Lean over just like that and the fish would evolve, as if he’d snuffed a candle between thumb and forefinger where the lightning bolts came out. That he died, I’m not certain; it may just be that I started to move backward and everything else stayed still. Fixtures in the scenery snort past when I stick my head out the window. I count each snort and catalog its shape. Even looking down I can’t tell which of us is moving.
It’s spring, and I’m so very tired of the con my body is running.
For example: There was the street that ran past his hovel, where I saw the parked car. The butcher in the backseat with the large dead pig. Through the open door I watched him ________ its ________ while he ________ it. It’s strange but blood can cloud as well as clot. Maybe it does both inside us. The sidewalk was uneven and he looked up. “The fuck you looking at?”
That the pig was dead, I’m not certain. That may have just been the con it was running.
© 2005
