Tuesday, August 5, 2008


he couldn't win. he'd trid all the pills they had given him, but he still couldn't use his crazy powers.
the powers to speak, to hold his bladder, to remember things.
these were the dreams of the dead man.
he couldn't wait.
this was what would happen when he'd dream.
he couldn't speak. he couldn't read.
he was dead.
he could create, though.


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