Last Night You Came Back, and you said you were
feeling so much better. Your feet were torn in two,
and your bowels were hanging from your mouth.
Your face was rotting, and I was afraid of you, come
back from the dead to ask if you could rejoin us now,
and you didn't die after all, it just kept rotting you
away, and it had only appeared to us that you had
died and destruction stopped-no instead you had
been taken, you had been taken somewhere else and
no one knew not even you, but you stood in the room saying,
"But, Look! I'm so much better," and
you frightened me because I knew then that you could never come back
to the land of the living, but that you were condemned
to live in the land of the dead forever,
in the colony of lepers that would have you,
you so frightening to behold...
Then our father came into the room with a large black dog, said,
"I've got to take the dog for a walk now," to send you back
to the grave where you really live now, he was
surpised that you had the temerity to try and rejoin
the healthy, and then I saw you leave us through the
garden, your head bent down, crying softly, and then
I awoke to a horror much greater than ever before because
there is no peace where you are dead, not for you and not for me,
never, never anything but sadness,
and we will never never never never never never
be happy, ever again.

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