What is this

Monday, October 12, 2009

He said he was done dying; I haven't even begun.

We could change the way things work; switch six chambers to just one. Don't you know we all die alone, he said; Don't you know it's all just a dream, he said.

I think of the children tucked up in bed; Their eyes will see the walls I've built run red. Then she says, we will know our fault; Then she says, he will know his fathers flaws, he will look up at the stars, and there will be no wonder in his eyes. Nothing will be able to disguise the realizations, as his emotions conform into automation and no one will weep at the fall of this decaying nation. Least of all the eyes that have seen the walls run red, have seen them stack and bury the dead, from cord wood to compost, these are the things you fear the most. You no longer feel safe in your bed and the covers lose their magic protectiveness and you are left to the assault of the maggots and the specter in her soiled dress.


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