Sunday, June 2, 2013

how easily, a life tossed away.

Blinded by urges, i say to her "let me put mustard on that biscuit",
and soon enough, she's in my home, hunting a corner, where she makes a
mound of loose sand and dust, and, to my dismay, begans plopping out
her perfectly-shaped slime-covered eggs. Then she insists that she
wants to be "mrs. Abaddon1215", and i see this is the stuff of a
lifetime of nightmares. "you'll always just be telulah forthright", i
says, "so the decent fellas know to avoid you, like an abandoned well
with a large sign which reads 'danger: filled with mice' ", and in my
mind, i've already gathered her old tee shirts and threadbare
undergarments, and tossed them in the yard.

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