Limbs twisting in and out of eachother In the still moving darkness and crunch of leaves Hands grasping at the neck and teeth pulling at the flesh of her shoulder bruised. Man eating flowers sprouting from her eyes in the dark . In the dark there is still a chance. In the dark there is always still a chance. To make or unmake a life to take or to give a chance The deceptive bruised and hungry dark of one's abused and tender own heart. And oh the lies it tells to feed itself. November 29th 2001