kerry the water was bubbling and spilling over the rocks and hiding behind the dam we made with the plywood. i was singing some song really softly and i was nine and i was small, crouching on the top of a big rock with a fern leaf in my hand and a plastic bottle with a little plastic man in the other hand. and you said, "stop."
"stop what?"
"stop singing. you're bad at it."
i was quiet and hurt but didn't show it.
so i hummed.
"stop it!!"
"stop what?!"
"stop humming! you don't sound good humming either!"
fuck you stupid bitch.
monee the water bubbles and spills down the mountain and into my bathtub 041210
what's it to you?
who go