Posted on 19 April 2010

While touching myself tonight my mind twisted
from sweet lovely thoughts of you & soothing music
suddenly to a daydream of me slicing my wrists,
making candy canes of my pale white arms with
a bright orange box-cutter. A violent
color, orange. What a notion. But so comfortingly odd
feeling that sharp blade, which can quickly cut
through layers & layers of packing tape on
hard cardboard, rip through my flesh, severing
my veins like a mediator: break it up, come
on, break it up, you two. You’re wondering,
now, aren’t you? Did I get off? Well, I assure you, it was
the Neutral Milk Hotel & those melodies—but, oh, I
did breathe the deepest final orange sigh.

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