Thursday, November 26, 2009

a house of breakables

there was a bathroom attendant in your building as child. you didn't like him- just too smiley for your taste. sure, he would blindly assist you everyday in your most private of personal occasion. yes, he looks like he should be your friend. but you shun him. you shun him silently. restless on your soiled mattress and pillow at night thinking of him curled up beseeched in the coat closet near the kennedy suite right by his office. the bathroom. le toilet. the lu. the wc. his hell. your saving grace. not wanting to go home to think about wanting to come to work again.

then you're in highschool and all the cronies wanna know questions. and they wanna know answers. but they can't have them. no, not today;not while you're already teetering over the porcelain excuse in the girlies vanity room, gruffly flipping your wet head and raccoon eyes to the girl with the pearls.madame bijoux. "get the fuck out!" you say. the fist curls and plummets from your magnetized chest cavity into shards and shards of glass. her face was breakable.don't worry blood comes out just about anything.

more eventful pictures and ideas tomorrow.

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