This is shameless anyway. No neon sign around his neck, just a plane riding a mini sun and holiday socks pulled up to my knees. I only want him when I squeeze them together. Will there be snow, will there be another factory death on the eve of my birthday? My name was spelled wrong and ****** on. Faked insanity after I hid him along with my mother's inheritance. Itself was insanity and a handful of cherry pits. Her mother could tell you all about it, how it starts with chronic ear infections. My bra looked like doilies and I lined my sternum with gunmetal eyeshadow, waiting for him to crash in my field.