There is a dog inside of her brain and it just WILL NOT refrain: from framing her mind as a malfunctioning thing. She’s been trying like WiLdfIrE NOT to think too much.. even been making amends with distanced friends of predominantly antagonised wherewithal; all that she actually – acutely – NEEDS to do IS to speak — with herself in hindsight-hilarity of syllable; it IS a coping mechanism to c-e-a-s-e her brutalised brain from being bled at the bleed of the seams, and she DOES seem to feel almost very-nEARLY nothing AT ALL anymore(!!) See… Amy’s been to an abusive place of restless AND relentless raging of demonstrative argumentation— and with what may as well have been a gunpushedexcruciatinglyagainstherhopelesslittlehead.. adolescence be-dead!! Now, all day spent wrapped inside of the inner-insides of her makeshift bed and feeling ALL kinds of envioUSly fuckedUP and all-of-it utterly (on purpose and) owing —- to someone else who doesn’t even appEAR to even wish to exist… … ‘cept for inside of her battle-hardened, bedridden head; it crept. Vehemently enthused to v-i-o-l-e-n-t-l-y violate her damn-down-right everything imaginABLE