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Object 8
go quiet?
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The past and the future merge to meet us here. What luck.
What a f*cking curse.
"Denial"
"Anger"
If it's what you truly want ... I can wear her skin over
mine. Her hair over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth
as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled
cane. We can pose for a photograph, all three of us.
Immortalized ... you and your perfect girl.
Why can't you see me? Why can't you see me? Why can't
you see me? Everyone else can.
"Apathy"
"Emptiness"
She sleeps all day. Dreams of you in both worlds. Tills the
blood, in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc,
grief sedated by orgasm, orgasm heightened by grief. God
was in the room when the man said to the woman, "I love
you so much. Wrap your legs around me. Pull me in, pull
me in, pull me in." Sometimes when he'd have her nipple
in his mouth, she'd whisper, "Oh, my God." That, too, is a
form of worship.
Every fear ... every nightmare ... anyone has ever had.
"Accountability"
You find the black tube inside her beauty case where she
keeps your father's old prison letters. You desperately
want to look like her. You look nothing like your mother.
You look everything like your mother. Film star beauty.
How to wear your mother's lipstick. You go to the
bathroom to apply your mother's lipstick. Somewhere no
one can find you.
"Forgiveness"
"Resurrection"
When your back gets against the wall and your wall
against your back, who you call? Hey! Who you call? Who
you call? You gotta call Him. You gotta call Jesus. You
gotta call Him. You gotta call Him 'cause you ain't got
another hope.
Magic.
"Hope"