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Dun de de dun
11:26 p.m. 2007-05-17

The veins in my wrist rise parallel to the ocean and drift silent mimicry to sunrise/sunset salvations. And I sit on the jutting edges of skeletal skyscrapers halfbuilt and exposed, dangle toes and scarred shoes over 50 storey headlights and traffic jams seem inconsequential in the radiant sifting of sunlight through clouds. And i trace the calluses on my fingers over the web of my veins to soothe early storms and to direct traffic and to remember the feeling of steel girders and sunsetkissed skin and I haven't been in love like this building before. And you can't see it, and you can't see me, because the things we cannot understand are always 50 storeys high and over our heads and because i don't like the way you look at me anymore. Like you're confused and scared because you can't understand. So i strangle steel between the joints in my hands and steal strength from the chill and I promise potential to the veins in my wrists, like praying to yourself when its dark and late and quiet, and i promise that the steel in my veins and under my palms will never be wasted.

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words @ jake, layout @ kelly