The interface between my skin and the air is broken. Static seeps in. There is no center, or, the center can not hold. I fall apart. When he says, 'Electricity comes from other planets,' I know he's talking about me. I am another world, one that wills itself to be encased, one that will only venture forth on certain days, one that rarely consents but when it does, does so completely and without regard for the rattling windows, vases smashing on the floor, the ears and eyes torn out, hilariously askew beside a mismatched pair of discarded socks. Nothing is left in the camera frame but those dirty socks, the plastic rings on the floor beside them. -- ___________________________________________________________ Sign-up for Ads Free at Mail.com http://promo.mail.com/adsfreejump.htm
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