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Page 2
Stop trying to save me.
Tainted light ran through my discarded skin as it lay drying on a church pew. I felt sick to my stomach watching the slow saw of decay tear through the membranes. What was once parcel of my sanctity was now nothing more than midnight. What was once a part of my secret voice was withering, dying, abandoned and alone. It was early in the afternoon and the stain glass looked magnificent, almost approaching perfection. The odd arrangement of the lights in the tarpaulin sky hovered over me like a blanket, enshrouding my cracked eyes in their sockets. I felt the energy of creativity pouring out of the gaping hole onto the floor, speckling the pews in front of me and making the sounds of a small waterfall. There was a time for rest and a time for paranoia and then there were times like these when you can do nothing but sit back and watch. One gets lost in these dark places of solace. The intensity of the life shroud that lifts you up like an infant snatches the breath from the hands of the non-believer and lets them drip slowly down their veins like ice, tasting the visceral glow of love. As the skin shriveled, it folded naturally on itself, creating places to hide, places in which one could swim with dreams. Unexpectedly I reached out for it, clutched it, squeezed, and broke it. My eyes were sent rolling around in my skull, another delicate matter innocently shattered by a single lonely touch. There is nothing more holy than the look of lust at the altar of desire, the sacrificial paradise lain down across the moss and caressed with a breath. The thought of it and the silent hesitation begs forgiveness at the moment of satisfaction. When I imagined my luck could not get any worse, just as she was starting to go to work a cop walked by. He shined his flash light at me and yelled out. "Young man is that a bottle on your tongue?" I had to think fast. I heard they were vicious about this sort of thing in court. Did I answer and let him know for sure? Or did I risk having him come over here and catch me with my tongue stuck down the long neck. How embarrassing. I decided to take my chances. I dove headfirst into the nearest dumpster. Again, my predicament worsened. The dumpster was inhabited by a family of what appeared, at first glance, to be trolls. Their hair was terrifying.
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