Saturday 2/23/2008 12:27:00 AM

She thinks in sounds. She sees in touch. Losing her virginity every night to nightmares she can't remember. Purple skin whispers of stories she may have read. A long time ago. Missing underwear hides between the pillows waiting to be discovered. She sleeps in dogs. Feral curs afraid to growl at because all their fangs have fallen out. Nothing, but the meat left to covet. No desire to feed the hunger.

It always comes back. Deeper than it left.

Same movie different actors. Same con. Different victims.

The sheets discuss her when she's not listening. Some pale infant not quite ejaculated from her mother's womb. Half born by. Half smothered. In so much potential.

With a Trojan smile and wooden skin she waited silently for the ambush in her head to win.

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