Tuesday 5/16/2006 10:58:00 PM

Fulsome vandalism on display. Forgetful as these unions are. It still snows brightly in the tight-fisted gutters between these mountains.

When I look up and the sky is gone. Only an endless white dress in its place. I want to wear it, but I know it doesn't fit.

There goes my attitude again. Setting the timers on those bombs just shy of my escape. Blossoming like an angry flower. Spitting people pieces everywhere. I should've been crippled so many times, but instead, I just listen a little closer.

There's always an indication. But the siren isn't why we run. It's only after the pain sets in that we begin to make our way toward the antiseptic.

But I don't want to kill the disease. I want to nurture it.

Without it there'd be nothing left.

I remember the nothing. I see it in every goosebump as I contemplate where I can find to hide from it next.

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