If You Hit Bottom, There's A Whole

I Walk Around The Room Eating Goose Liver And Puffy Bread Until There's A Knock On The Door. Effie's Calling Me To Dinner. Good. I'm Starving.

And When Again It's Morning, They'll Wash Away. Here It's Safe, Here It's Warm Here The Daisies Guard You From Every Harm.

Underground. Which I Hate. Like Mines And Tunnels And 13. Underground, Where I Dread Dying, Which Is Stupid Because Even If I Die Aboveground, The Next Thing They'll Do Is Bury Me Underground Anyway.

But Collective Thinking Is Usually Short-lived. We're Fickle, Stupid Beings With Poor Memories And A Great Gift For Self-destruction.

She’s Really Gone, Then. The Little Girl With The Back Of Her Shirt Sticking Out Like A Duck Tail, The One Who Needed Help Reaching The Dishes, And Who Begged To See The Frosted Cakes In The Bakery Window. Time And Tragedy Have Forced Her To Grow Too Quickly, At Least For My Taste, Into A Young Woman Who Stitches Bleeding Wounds And Knows Our Mother Can Hear Only So Much.