March 29, 2009 - 8:13
In here, she and I have first-thought theatre dialogues.
Her: "Why do you whimper?"
Me: "Because I've lost everything."
"Oh, ale... your watery cheeks"
I show her my stuttering fist.
"I was cut from his grace."
"I wouldn't set fire, not to you...."
"I should have cut locks of his hair."
"Your face is like an axe blade, and I'm too afraid to sleep tonight."
Being drunk makes me feel like myself, curling up.