|
2001-10-17 || 11:24 a.m. || scrap metal belly || i feel like there is a magnet lodged way down in the middle of me, one of those big cartoony horseshoe ones, and it has attracted a big rusty anchor and stray silverware (the tines of the forks all curled and jagged) and safety pins and nails and fish hooks and bottle caps. and it hurts, dammit, all that metal pokin around in there, weighing me down, making me want to lay on my side like a goddamn bloated dying horse. if you kick me in the stomach i'll sound like a jamaican steel band, i swear it. i'm bleedin rust and tetanus. i'm threatenin lockjaw and bad moods. fuckin pamprin, with your flowery symbol printed on the face of the pill, you are no match for the scrap metal i'm lugging around. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |