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August 29, 2010
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Picture a girl.

Can you see her?

Lank brown hair and shifting gray green eyes. A blotchy face, coated in slimy, salty tears. They run, and the mucus runs, but she doesn't notice
(or care)

enough to wash it away.

The girl is afraid.

And tired,
(of screaming)
(of trembling)
(of pretending she's forgotten how to care).

She sits.


The girl doesn't know that what she's about to do will haunt her, more then all the other times.

That lovely drip will flow, and it will haunt her.
After, she vomits.
And, after months have passed, she will feel

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