Comments on self
She never looks into my eyes. Why must the moon always gaze just over my shoulder. As though my past is of greater satisfaction than my spirit in the now. I'll slay enough for her. She is red. I am scared. Weak. Not sorry.
I am in a paper cabin. I am human. Whore of a satellite. I'll arouse her yet. I am weaker now. I am more aware. Here is fine enough to form a new pack.