blankets

There is mold on the windowsill and the wind outside has strengthened. The musty odor permeates the air like a woolen blanket keeps us safe when the electricity goes out. This is the room where devils dwell. From here they gather in pairs to shell out fear in the world. They dream up stories to influence the masses. They want you to buy into the dream. This is what they sell and for them it is all there is. You see these are the lost souls who delivered themselves to the passions of humanity willingly. They are the ones who keep secrets and abstained from all responsibility. Their namelessness is required because the men and women who once occupied this world are manifested in these groups and they share no information; they are solitary and alone forever and ever. They require those like them to exist free from remorse and responsibility while serving their own vanity. These days there are many soulless among us and they look just like you do. Feel not sadness for them, they don't even know who they are. The only thing these people know is how to be desperately enthusiastic about nothing in particular followed by deep deep downlike thoughts of uselessness and shame surrounded by an emptiness large enough to, well, use your imagination. 98.2