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Attilee Released May 23, 2015

I've discovered that you are made of paper mâché. Don't be alarmed, it's nothing we can't handle. If anything, I've already done some investigation into the matter. I believe you may find my findings are what you would anticipate, although I apologize for uncovering them without you. My curiosity ran rampant during your nightmares, and I couldn't bare to wake you from them.

You'll notice some duct tape on your chest, and I'll confess, I cracked you open like a piñata when I noticed something off. It was just your breathing, suddenly it sounded so soft and rattling. Every inhale shaking like a tin can in a storm. While we know I have no degree in medicine, I threw caution to the wind by this matter. For you I felt certain in my bleary bones I could assess and treat with ease. 

I cut up your sternum with my good scissors, the clean ones I only allow you to use for the mail and nothing else. You tore open so clean and without a drop of blood, so I feared the absolute worst, but still I could hear your whistling tin breath assuring me of my task. Once fully open, I could see nothing but crinkle-cut newspaper confetti covering your organ thickly, but after a bit of brushing, things became clearer. Your lungs I found first, filled with struck matches all shaking about by your deep sleep. I expected those, and left them be as you do too.

Your heart I found second, and I laughed so loud when I did. It was a miniature sleeping bag, rolled up with a photo of you stapled to it. Not the you I know now, but the one you've told me about. He looked happy, the same face I see when I wake up...

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TwinSuns 16 hours ago

Darkness dwells.

            Dwells deep.

            Dwells dear.

Darkness devours.

            Devours daylight.

            Devours dreams.

Darkness delivers.


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