Wednesday 3/04/2009 01:00:00 AM

Dartboards at the back of her throat. Search for bulls eyes below. Frame the moment. As you would any piece of art. That is all we are.

Finger tumble. Into open fists. Circuits resolve. The fraying wires that impede the electricity.

See... I was discussing with the velveteen rabbit what happens after the disease is gone. Where those dirty skins end up. Once the child is taken away from us.

Real. Is such a stubborn paradox. Real. In the blurry vision of myopic gods. There is your religion. There is your salvation. That I wake up every day the same as I went to bed. Unchanged. Unmolested. By the feeble ghosts that haunt them.

Oh. Of course. I'd be willing to try on the teddy bear. But why? Why would you ever ask me to? When we both know it won't fit.

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