Jami Belle,
<smiles>
I knew there was one more name to yours when I met you
And I asked you about it
And you said and you laughed:
"Peterson. I hate it though."
I could change that.
Does Hiatt sound nice? It did at the time. Jami Belle Hiatt.
A nice ring.
You liked it.
God I miss you.

My favorite is one I requested on a morning in the summer when I went to the library too early and they weren't open yet, so I waiting in the parking lot and she was just barely waking up and I asked her for a photo and she said she was ugly cause it was morning and she wasn't ready at all, but I kept asking and so she did. She sent me a photo of her in bed, sleepy as hell and it is the best photo I've ever seen. The joy that photo brings me is immeasurable. It comes from a time when life was perfect, it comes from a perfect source, who I loved perfectly.

I would give anything to be with her.

There's a body on a table in a morgue.
That's all.

Then rip it the rest of the way. Cause **** that paper.

There's an ambient sound in the light of this sill, this wooden panel of glass and appreciation of architecture and planning and the lack thereof. There's a scent to the air which is like somebody wants to care, but just doesn't. A crow sits.

There are rusty tools in the shed and rotting wood on every building. Dead leaves on all grounds. Silent fires. Silent animals and corpses.
Silent golden jewelry sitting in a drawer, waiting for it's half life.

The man with blonde hair is new. So is his blood and sweat. Things are changing.
He's running for his life.

You said I was the best.
You said I was perfect.

If I had jello in my veins,
I'd cut my wrists and drink
Scrumptious sugar sweet,
Rainbow colors within me.