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October 21 The fist fallsMy eyes hurt from seeing. My quivering lips drip blood, but it doesn’t matter, the carpet’s stained through anyway. I can’t even remember where they all come from, but my bones feel their vibrations... and each new strike against my head recalls all their echoes. When my mind stops shaking and the floor lies still I’m left with ringing ears calling out in a child’s voice, and children only ever ask one thing... TrackbacksThe trackback URL for this entry is: http://sephblack.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!A44983C9D273F30C!157.trak Weblogs that reference this entry
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