In the dream I am running; toward or away from someone I do not know. The air is heavy but dry, in the manner of a Tornado Alley summer before the clouds broke. There are cicadas and the road is dirt, the trees on my left have grey, cracked bark but the woods seem full. All of my surroundings seem saturated. The buzzing in my ears is deafening and my legs hurt. They are seizing up. And then I am pulled from myself and see my body from the side running. There is a bird, with white plumed feathers falling from it's tail over the side of the branch overhead. I look up, distracted by the colour. A shot rings out, tearing through the top of my rib cage on my right side. My head is tilted up as I fall, catching a last glimpse of the bird as it flutters away from the commotion. The momentum of the bullet carries me further a half-step, then I collapse into the dirt. I can vaguely hear some sort of sonata, a piano, only playing backwards so that the sound resonates the wrong way. I can see the blood pooling in front of my face. Dry soil gathers and flows on top of the redness.

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Things fall apart.

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Your figure, dancing is slowly embraced entirely by the light.
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Her name was Cheryl
Black hair like electric space
She would pretty paint my face
She was a very good friend
Her father would come to her in the night.

She was 12 years old


Sometimes the words you don't say are the ones that hit the hardest. The song 'names' by cat power is killing me right now, but I like it. I'm not sure what to say but I think I'm more or less numb at this point. I am so angry, mostly at life itself. I'm tired of analyzing and re-analyzing all of my actions, trying to find the formula so I can fix it and stop failing. Oh Mr.Gallo, please come and take me away.