(no subject)
I am trying to remember this poem Casey wrote when I was in high school, but I can only dredge up fragments:
Last night I stuck I my hand in cookie dough. I know it's bad for me, but swallowing raw eggs just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I swallowed hard to make sure it got there. Nothing gets there anymore.
I colored my bed with salt today. I thought it might be a pretty sight, to see my sheets all discolored and mangled.
I am sick of having my eyes burn whenever I want them to close.
Last night I stuck I my hand in cookie dough. I know it's bad for me, but swallowing raw eggs just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I swallowed hard to make sure it got there. Nothing gets there anymore.
I colored my bed with salt today. I thought it might be a pretty sight, to see my sheets all discolored and mangled.
I am sick of having my eyes burn whenever I want them to close.