He was our terror, and we abandoned him.
Deprived of attention, his flesh became slack.
Eventually it fell away, leaving bone.
He became an echo of a person, a reminder of something we all wanted to forget. When he was no longer a threat, we tore at his bones and broke his memory apart. We poked at his leavings and disassembled his dreams. Finally, we separated, tossing his bones away from us, and leaving them to rot.

But where the bones had landed, things began to grow. Carnival colored nightmares and mealy acquaintances rose from his dismembered skeleton to remind us of him. People with 12 year old polyester shirts and pockmarked cheeks, blood filled dreams and severed limbs tied with grosgrain ribbons.

So now we search for the bones we cast aside, to extract them from our hiding places and our throats. To finally put him to rest.

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