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Pinprick your cells like ill-intentioned hail on a hot, seared face. The pins poke and they are needles delivering a poison; like blood, it pumps your core and you body-quake and earth-shake— the needles make you roar. They thread you up and together and there is the constant patch and repair. Each cell flashes “Fire alarm!” and bursts into flames. They will stab you into a rage. “A prison cell arsonist!” they’ll say when you escape your cage. |
"like blood, it pumps your core" to your core? I liked the use of rhyme here, I think it sort of aids the quirky delivery style. Unique ideas and imagery made this an enjoyable read. | Posted on 2009-01-22 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ] | |