The play.

She always wanted to drive to Ohio but they said don't, Georgia could save you yet she knows they burnt Atlanta to the ground. never liked any speciosa or the dance barefoot through the back of her yard. Who taught her to swim while her ankles are tied up with cinderblocks? did they really build a pressure with just an amen? Came upon a face, came upon a face. It was sin to her eyes as she dressed as smile with a blackened eyes, laden with all the scars, doesn't know how many times she lied, who's hair was in the shower drain, black or brown. paper or plastic. which hotel, what city. whatever. Who put the bleeding earth in her hands. who's on her lips, the one that breaks her open and pours her out. Can you hear Freyr by Peter Broderick keep playing every thursday? can you hear the sirens over her music? can you hear she asking not if the grass is greener but why? not sure why there's a feeling behind losing yourself but there is one. are you listening are you all ears can you hear her darling? She's standing there, the wind has its hands in her hair expected quicksand, atreyu on the shore saying her name above and surf. Swept her back to december, a dirty catastrophe. you know what they say, you can't kill everything you hold then cry about empty hands. the autopsy report saying that she had a knife inside her. not a wound. the whole damned thing. A two story home, a one story neighborhood. there has only one thing to be told. blue shutters, six slat windows, porches, black paint in the rooftop, patios, an extended garage. it doesn't matter, they are houses she can't live in. a body museum, splendor for children with sticky hands, these colour paintings, small palm prints on the glass cases. a replica of her heart within, beatin to death. You know she's a great observer, she visits it sometimes and that's the point but what happens to her when she wears the color of a bruise, hematoma lilac dress, blue scarf she got 3 months ago. nobody. nobody knows. Why wouldn't she tell how she fell and broke, how the king has no horses or men, how a wall is both her enemy and her friend. Everday you watch her watering her plants until they drown. Do you think you know, do you think you really know. sike. Why are you just wondering thing. Why are you just wondering thing. Find her. Find her in the trees, on the wind. Make her being lost in your kiss, hold the ache out of her chest. Can you hear her this time? can you feel the whisper and warm?