echoing heavy breathing, standing in sunshine, isolated in a crowded room. she really believed she was alone.
she did only what the angels told her to do, and they took away her wings and left her in gruff breathing, smoke and thoughts of the bottom of the oceam. murky and grey.
she always wore the same blue dress with the drawstring at the bottom. she liked the way it mae her feel like she was in a cage.
she sat on the prickling grass and told people:
"get out of my house. i want my house back."
she talked to the angels every night on the telephone until the murkiness of the ocrean infected her voice and she fell down into sleep, leaving the droning empty dialtone.
when her day feels dark and the sun is like a blacklight bathing her in light kisses, she smiles and all eyes turn to her, uneasy, because how could one smile contain so much joy?
the day the angels left her was a blindingly bright day. a flourescent day. and the orange tears hit the pavement like thunder, and everyone crowded close and she no longer felt alone. the whispered calls to kenya and britain and canada and brazil were no longer stamped on her monthly phone bill. her head was filled with screaming and she wondered if she was dreaming or dying or perhaps being born.
sitting on the grass with her hands over her elven ears, trying to quell the screaming in her head, she felt the eyes on her again.
she feels a warm, small hand on the back of her neck, a kiss on her forehead, and a blinding pain in her abdomen where the knife has spilled her intestines throbbing onto her lap. she smiles beatifically and laces her fingers through those of the angel holding the knife with the blue-black blade, taking her home.


take me home