Breathing never works, not for me.
Next time, try calling my name a few more times, chant it, solicit lies. Tell me my dog died. Do something. Wake me up, I’m not dead, I’m not sleeping; I’m alive.
Short Strings of Nothings
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Inane ramblings of an emotionally underdeveloped 20-yr old queer cat with a penchant for sleeplessness and dirty socks.
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Thursday, October 15, 2009
