(no subject)
she quivers her lip...left side...my left...when she ponders. like the hairs themselves are thinking...or jumping...screaming...whining...raising their hands. "pick me, pick me"...in a high pitched squeal. "double bag those...please"...her under-eyes sigh...reminds me of the personality associated with a basset hound. a really obese old basset hound...lethargic from life...laying on a matted granny square blanket in the corner...weighed down in the shape of slumber...for days...or weeks maybe...ready to keep sleeping...real sleep, i mean. id like to try...to rip her skin...i dont think i could. skin is harder to rip than would be thought. i wonder to myself..."how many more are there"...like this. this...thing...i mean...her...i mean...she...creeps me out. naturally.