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Christine Jun 2010
The pain is separate
From the person.
She acknowledges it
Accepts it
Enjoys it
But it is separate.
It barely even exists
Even though it is consuming a part of her brain.

The pain proves she still exists
Even if it's only a part of being.
Christine Jun 2010
Excess molars fill my swollen mouth
My jaw cannot take it
Saliva seps out of my guns
Hoping for some
Soothing salvation...
My teeth grow as I type
Expandingexploding
Until my tongue and gums are absorbed
And turn to fire to match
All that I'd left is
Far roo many
Massive molars
Christine Jun 2010
How could you?
I know we aren't full siblings
But I thought a half still meant something.
How could you not tell me?
And she's your mother.
How could you not tell her?
How could you not
Warn her
At least?
You know how she took it
When he went.
Or maybe you didn't
I guess you weren't there.
But still.

We are your family.
It may not mean much to you
But you mean a lot to us.
Christine Jun 2010
joe
He's leaving, too.
One was bad enough.
Now two are going away?

It's his life.
It's his decision.
It's not my problem.

But he leaves in two months
Who knows where he'll go.
Another desert
Another bomb zone.

Another brother out in the world.
Christine Jun 2010
She's sad
Upset
For some reason.
She won't tell you
And there are too many possibilities to start guessing.
Is he okay?
Are they leaving?
Is she leaving?
You'll just ruin the night if you sit here and dwell.

Take a shot of whiskey
Get it out of your system.
Forget til the morning.
Christine Jun 2010
Who's that pale chick
Mumbling to herself about
Fictional schools of witchcraft and wizardry
And trolleys and snakes?

Oh that's just Christine
She's not that bad
If she tells you she's a
Reanimated corpse
Walking among the living by using brains as sustenance
Don't pay any attention.
She's probably just kidding.
Christine Jun 2010
My hips won't quit
But I've tried many times to fire them.
They continue to exist
In all their circular glory
Making me see my body
Through a fish-eye lens.

My feet won't stop
But I've tried to make them tire.
They grow longer and wider
Until I am convinced I am
The cousin of the Yeti.

My stomach won't end
But I've tried to find the bottom.
It keeps on truckin
Until I resemble a forty year old man
Who's drank several hundred too many bars.
Apparently there's always more room.

My body won't quit.
My brain won't stop.
My heart won't start.
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