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fist shaped holesThe prison guard lumbers like an oaken giant,
hands meaty, covered in cuts, in
little purple pustules where the skin has dried and cracked.
His crab lips split into a silent grin
reminding me of maggot-blown corpses,
of over-ripe peaches. Of sun-dried tomatoes and salted slugs.
Beached whales and oil-slicked sea life.
If he had ears I would scream about days when the pages
of my mouth had littered the
I would scream about dirt and grime and life and death and hope
and fucking hope
and nothing, marbled thoughts like migrant starlings and
home, picket fences and rusted hinges
exhausted miners, withered housewives,
bloated cats and mangy dogs and children
with grubby fingers and angry eyes. Filthy streets,
streets that heave and groan and howl and fling
their legs wider and wider, and her fat hands and my left feet and
his mule head, all muddled up and confused.
I would scream
about the blind and the deaf
and the crippled and the lonely
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More