Sunday, May 27, 2012


you don't care, even though you were there. and so like you the little exhausted children sleep through all of the noise, and florescent lighting. all of the sickness, and dog fighting and all of my complaints, piteous, wasted breath protests, futile. but complacency, death. and so I shall put this scribbling to good use, like scrubbing the sink, and taking out refuse. Maybe start paying off some of this debt, but those are the little things I always forget.


  1. just a question for you, Amy. are you purposefully structuring these like prose this time around? i think they are good either way, but i just noticed a different structure from over on LJ. x

  2. i just wanted to see how it looked, and i liked them better this way. :)xx


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