Five Years Later I Still Wake Up

I Try To Forgive Her For My Father's Sake. But To Be Honest, I'm Not The Forgiving Type.

It's Funny, Because Even Though They're Rattling On About The Games, It's All About Where They Were Or What They Were Doing Or How They Felt When A Specific Event Occurred. . . . Everything Is About Them, Not The Dying Boys And Girls In The Arena

The Sensation Inside Me Grows Warmer And Spreads Out From My Chest Down Through My Body Out Along My Arms And Legs To The Tips Of My Being. Instead Of Satisfying Me The Kisses Have The Opposite Effect Of Making My Need Greater.

Sometimes, When I Clean A Kill, I Feed Buttercup The Entrails. He Has Stopped Hissing At Me. Entrails. No Hissing. This Is The Closest We Will Ever Come To Love.

I Pull The Sleeping Bag Up To His Chin And Kiss His Forehead, Not For The Audience, But For Me. Because I'm So Grateful That He's Here, Not Dead By The Stream As I'd Thought. So Glad I Don't Have To Face Cato Alone.