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I live on a diet of foo fighters and remorse. I am 22 feet tall. I looked to her face, she disappears into thin air. "Pop." When she returns her face is not hers. My fingers are mountains, my hair is cattails and my belly rumbles for the moon. I am 5 feet tall. The Phoenix lands on my headboard and speaks calmly "nevermore." I search for Allen but only find Parsons and Ginsburg. My eyes are emeralds, everything is red. My legs are Christmas trees, my arms are machine guns. Both red. I am 17 feet tall. The moon is gone, captured away. Night is gone. I wither away, from starvation. 42 feet tall.
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
A Surrealist Dream
I live on a diet of foo fighters and remorse. I am 22 feet tall. I looked to her face, she disappears into thin air. "Pop." When she returns her face is not hers. My fingers are mountains, my hair is cattails and my belly rumbles for the moon. I am 5 feet tall. The Phoenix lands on my headboard and speaks calmly "nevermore." I search for Allen but only find Parsons and Ginsburg. My eyes are emeralds, everything is red. My legs are Christmas trees, my arms are machine guns. Both red. I am 17 feet tall. The moon is gone, captured away. Night is gone. I wither away, from starvation. 42 feet tall.
harrison-2
Written by
American
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
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