the leaves on the trees are turning brown. i used to live half my life here, now i avoid the place. i throw a branch at the boy, it pierces his arm. fuck. he laughs, it didn't hurt, there isn't even any blood. i know i am dreaming now. the blond boy seems able to fly, is this my life? the boy is not on great terms with the blond boy, it seems. i shoot him. the three of us are new, never-ending, numb, nescient, newsworthy, nidifugous, nightmarish, nebulous, noxious, strangers to each other, thick as thieves. incredibly and unbelievably lost. i cannot leave until the leaves go brown, they're stunning in their green glory. somebody pick me up before midnight, please; the alligators like to count seconds.
