Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Twice, or all over again.

Those little.. Those little sticklers come from the forest. Don't look up or they find you and spread their death all over your body. Spreading some sort of contagion that's not really tangible or physical, or even mental. It just spreads. So many people have the virus, it's really buried deep down inside of them. Creating some sort of metaphysical disease that doesn't affect you. We don't think. But if it does, we don't know how. Little needles prick your skin one hundred times on every one of body parts. After that, they go away. Twice, I've had it. Or all over again. Just depending on what way you look at it. Maybe it's some sort of enchanted forest plant that creates a new you, no one can tell it's a new person, because everything is the same. It can happen, though. Sometimes twice.