As Miss Tender looks back,. She writes a love letter,. From the future,. Making no attempt to obscure her,. Desire,. Her desire,. Her desire to live in the past,.
I have been held in this orphanage for longer than my years.. I am made to eat this horrid porridge.. They box me on the ears.. How often I vow to flee, to go..
Momma was an opium-smoker. She light it with a red-hot poker. She would never take a bath. We would ask her - she'd just laugh. Because our momma was an opium-smoker.
Momma was an opium-smoker. She light it with a red-hot poker. She would never take a bath. We would ask her - she'd just laugh. Because our momma was an opium-smoker.