Saturday, October 15, 2005
Haunted am I.
By birds, by runners, by body hair.

the horror
I can’t even look anymore.
Young women in the prime of there lives flailing in the dirt, gasping and slobbering. Being force-fed.
The talons and hook bill of even the most petite fowl, a revolution of the garbage-men is nigh.
In my mouth, in public places I twirl balls of my arm hair, which I have torn out…trich-oral fixation
So Fascinated with this near trident phobia
Stabbing at my conscience like the claws of a male crab.
I must suffocate the pinching weapons of trepidation.
Combine Harvester8:36 PM
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