Thursday, September 28, 2006
Take a Bite
You want a piece of me? Go on, I dare ya... That's right, sink your hot metal doll teeth in and see where it gets you. Hurts, doesn't it?
But don't cry, darlings. It never lasts that long... And the pain tastes just like Mom's apple pie. I have no excuses. I have no news, that I can share. I'm keeping my secrets locked up tighter than the Olsen Twins. These days, the only way to get me to spill is to transform yourself into some kind of enigma. Trick me with your exquisite taste. Tie me to the tracks and let the whistle blow.
As you can see, I am still shell-shocked from the apocalypse. There's no beginning to the story, but I'll be sure to report the end. As long as the record's still spinning, I will be busy with my prey... I feel a bit like a reporter sent to cover the war, who stays in the hotel room waiting for something to happen. I shower, watch a bit of telly, occasionally glance out the window to see the corpses and wonder where the fuck room service is with my chicken salad.... I am a bad magician. I can't find my rabbit anywhere. Maybe he ran off with Mitch again....
JR says that the strands of my web are really walls, limitations, boundaries.... I disagree, but I still believe in those things. They exist for a reason, right? Without walls, where would I hang my mirror? Without limitations, we would all be sleeping with angels... And without boundaries, vacations would seem less important. Over here is where we keep our livestock. And this is the torture rack....
Don't push me right now, I am terrorized and I have enough reasons to be beautiful.
Bite me.
SO
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3 comments:
Never order the chicken salad unless it's bone in and on the side.
Heh he he he... Dale said : "....bone in..."
That's exactly what I said. And you said he he he.
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