What if her whispers were the worst, and her fears these threaded things of equal ambivalence as herself(?(and what if: we were to —-
Crave the taste for uttermost imponderable behaviour? Would it rEally feel all that bad to do the thing that nobody else notices anyway. And would it feel actually OK to suffer in utter ***king silence(?)
When she got tattoos of the things that make her feel momentarily real that’s how they knew… exactly how to sort her posthumous body from the rest with a DEAR SWEET SABBATH letter at her adolescent chest. Thud thud… no more(…! Flatline one of a kind and we _ will fall to our CONCRETED feet and all of us feel a LITTLE TO largest lot…
•of sadness in staged sedation
