Wednesday 5/27/2009 12:39:00 AM

The long words. Trailing off into sleep. Always warned. Of bad dogs. Feral with the decisions. Only animals can make. The scribbles on her wrists. Diaries of the skin. Written with razors. Tell stories she assumes will never be read. The vandals. The lovers. Come later. To embellish them with their graffiti.

The monsters are reanimated. In strikes of touch like lightning. A gruesome mosaic of the people we once were. Resentful for the drunk scientists who have brought them back to life.

Everyone wants to die. They're just afraid.

The cardboard in her eyes. Withering under sudden realization. The truth mushrooming. After the initial impact. Rain. And snow. And Soggy doll heads. Asking her questions there are no answers to. Homeless again. She picks up her frail box. And begins assembling the pieces.

The monsters. Born again. To the thunder of when. All those devils were obvious. And we never worried about evil until after we'd done it.

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