Tuesday 9/22/2009 01:00:00 AM

She puzzled after the pillows as the bed coughed a few breaths. The bunny under its wheels not quite so lucky as the skin above. She never thought out loud until she started asking him why. The glass stopped making sounds. When it cracked. Claws in wet cement. Drawing blood of another kind. Monsters built undoing their scientists.

Following the worm. As it struggled its way through the density of the wood. Morals came to mind. Of small things. That feed on the big ones. Arrogant perches where the wise owl pretends to decide. Answers to all the questions he's long ago ignored.

The fallow on the torch causes it to burn that much brighter. The graves on the hill hurry us to dig quicker. But the tombstones slow us down.

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