Along a dry creek bed in Missouri, ran a small brown fox. A dog bark sounded in the distant. Below two dead leaves, an ant poked out and crawled for all salvation. I ordered some chicken. For a while after dinner, I walked over across the street to Brett’s house. I knocked on the door and she let me in. At 11:14 at night, we finished the movie I brought. “I don’t think it’s weird.” she said. I looked around at the things in her bedroom. Her father looked stern and un-accepting to me, like I feared he would. I was excited to be there. I thought I would never have the courage to put myself in that position. At one quarter until twelve. I felt very sad. I wasn’t talking. Every silly little thing I wished I’d say seemed pointless to say, and I just thought about it and said nothing. I curled up into the night and cried.
In the morning, I hate my body and my mind. I went into the opposite bedroom and lay sideways on the top bunk bed. In a few seconds, I became restless and moved around and sat up. I saw a cat come in through the open doorway. Lawn one road. I sat up. beginning the latest intro i became one what with my body i felt like i did and any other way walking down the road and then the footsteps on the empty street we too loud for me to forget while the old hard shops and greyness of the quiet music sky clouds grey gory insane games and inciting a bull in a red vest beside the tree on the hill in the fields in spain crazy for being so fast in the winter wind blows my hair up to the top of the mountain in the snow for two minites is not long enough to be fire in the fire was so hot and uncomfortable in the dinner evening it was too slow to be said i cant talk and the wind was too strong to hear something important to me.
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