Amelia is my muse.
02/25/2005 09:46 a.m.


Amelia is empty.
I stuff her throat with my second-rate words,
knowing she'll discard them with obvious disgust.

Amelia bathes in embalming liquid.
I worry about the way her bones are visible, though.
and even more so, how she refuses to fill the spaces.

Amelia's mouth is a blue line.
she watches on as I spit up blood
"I need this", I tell her desperately.

Amelia does nothing but smile.