The rock splits open like wings beat air WANTING. Campfire gives in to rain, but I can�t go to sleep or be patient.

Part of me wants to eat the stones and hold you back when you�re leaving, �till your good laughing turns bitter and wrong.

I worry I won�t have someone to talk to, and breathe with. Don�t you understand I�m some kind of food for you? I�m a place where you can work.

The bottle is corked and sitting on the table . Someone comes in and sees me without you and puts his hand on my head like I�m a child�

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