Monday, October 31, 2011
Dia de los Muertos
I see dead people.
The child who had no limits.
The adolescent who never grew up.
The man who did not know right from wrong.
The tortured body that could not live in it's own skin.
The tormented skull that cut it's own face off.
The haunted soul who could not rest.
The prisoner of what he could not see.
The skeleton who could not stop dancing.
He would have paid any price, or literally moon-walked on a tightrope if it helped.
And a doctor actually killed him.