shooter star

Fake and whispering and tv noises and the sound of stomach grumbling and the thought. of being dramatic the sound of an intelligent child with such a beautiful future ahead of her the high ringing that won’t stop thte shaking of my fingers as i type this the many blankets on my bed the hrumble of my stomach the thought of never ever leaving bed even if the thought of being something else the thought of everything the eound of the pitbull needing to leave slme part thought of me at the train i’d be waiting for it i hear it roght now sufj good timing whenever i am under the coral i imagine myself waiting for a train it hadnt come yet but it alwaus reoccurs in my noggin i am dizzy i am itchy and dirty