Imagine A World That Seemed

Remember That Every Fire Will Burn Itself Out, Even Without Your Help.

History Could Hover, Like A Faint Perfume Or A Memory Stamped On The Back Of One's Eyelids.

When I Was Little I Bragged About My Firefighting Father: My Father Would Go To Heaven, Because If He Went To Hell He Would Put Out All The Fires.

Crazy Girls Did This, Girls Who Walked Like Zombies Through Ya Novels. But. Trixie Felt The Sting Of The Skin As It Split, The Sweet Welling Rise Of Blood. It Hurt, Though Not As Much As Everything Else Idd.

Her Mouth Is Always On The Verge Of A Smile. It Makes Her Look Like There's Always Something Amazing She Needs To Tell Me, Even When It's Just Hello.