wanted to share this with you

"i know her she plays the future
music she grew up with coloring books
filled with queens but left them blank
coloring only the hills in the backround
she always did the small houses along the tree line
in red. that's where she imagined she was born

then the years of her door opening late
each night leaving a wedge of light on her wall
as she turned away

the large purple hand
that taught her precision meant pain

the air-conditioned molestation

then she went back and filled in the queens
found fame and scraped away her humility
as if it were dead skin on a blouse

she got even with everyone
except those that did it
that left light wedged on the wall

now she visits without calling first
weeps tears thin as lightbulb filament running
down her forearms and my walls, the color
of the houses on the hills

where she colored in her childhood

blood runs through the locks
of every room she enters"
-jim carroll

2002-09-17 | 3:53 a.m.
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