Phyllis J. Rhodes
This is where the sick, the different, the handicapped are kept and killed as needed for experiments done by scientists who tell themselves its for the greater good. But they've gone so far they don't even try to justify anything anymore. They've come to hate themselves and anyone with any flaw who reminds them of what they have becomed. No matter how hard they try to wipe out the imperfect, as long as they allow themselves to live, imperfection will thrive.
2006-10-12

-Angela
the room is tattooed in thick graffiti... (walls and ceiling and floor) giant, crooked letters that scream in cursing hues, poems in pink cursive, memories in purple, a collage of color and cartoon images and scribbles... a room lit with a black light that reveals the blood... and the bed, it's just a bare mattress laying in the floor, and the life within it is curled up under the weight of the room, barely being seen, hanging by a dream...

that's what this makes me see... (although the hope did not shine through my room as it seems to in your text...) i think perhaps it's just my mood today, but something of the room just seems to haunt...
2006-10-12