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3 38%
1 13%
4 50%
Voters: 8.
Top 2 go through to finals. 5 days

The Corkscrew Effect

I crash in a doorway,
The newspaper covering my head bares the headline;
the courtesans' killer caught and killed.
A punch and a kick
or a limb and liver to the writer
for being so quick...
but I am not dead, yet.

So I skip town; across the "you'll never catch me" crease,
and against the rise and fall contours of the yellow-brick


I end up benched in a park,
between two homos' and a hobo,
drawing over smiles and expressions in magazines
with "don't touch me" frowns, and gloomy perspectives.
Filling out crosswords with confessions and oaths
for my jury, someday,
and I sit - still - rewriting;
"I cannot live without your guidance" star signs -
that reveal you'll never find love, no one really likes you
and there's always someone better than you.

The is a hand-job for the 21st Century,
rich man/poor men, pleasant but painful. like;
Castor sugar cataracts,
throat sweet infections
laceration lollipops
and cancer-chip cookies.

I set the spaghetti on fire,
missed the pot when I was pouring,
and I melted a metal cup
in the microwave.
I let my credit cards go unpaid,
as I threw down half my paycheck
for some weak painkillers
and flu medicine.
My brother ran away again,
and no one seems to care this time,
no one knows where he is,
and he isn't even on my mind,
but if I saw him,
I'd unload several fists to his face,
because our parents raised us right,
and he needs to learn his place
in this world he isn't old enough
to be alone in just yet.
he's only seventeen,
and pretty much, a prison veteran.
I've spent all day dying on this bed,
as I coughed up blood,
and downed orange juice,
and ignored phone calls from my parents --
maybe someone's found him,
so maybe I've lost my chance,
to instill some vigilante justice
and make my brother understand
just exactly what he's missed.
and as I lay here,
macking on some girl, who really,
is not pretty enough for me,
I hope they throw him in the army
and he is all he can be:
another statistic on a chart,
whether locked up in a prison or
shot up in the ground.
I've loved him for seventeen years,
but I don't think I do now.
and I think that I'd be better
without him in my life,
I've got a C average
at a state university
and I haven't been arrested,
and I only drink alcohol
when friends are around,
and the cops have let me off
every time I've almost let down
my parents, and everyone I know,
so God, if one of us is going to die,
I think he's the one who should go.

*removed as requested by author*
Nobody had a chance against code, for me. Joris at his finest, or close.