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October 4, 2011
I'd write you a letter, babe, but the only words I remember are screams. Grunts. Groans. Snarls.

Little bitty angel has a feral side.

God, do you remember me at night? When those fingers pull the sheets off my bed and pull me under, under and out. There used to be a voice that kept those hands away. There used to be arms that anchored me to the world.

The devil took him away, see. The devil bit him until he left me for western skies. Now I fall asleep with the sound of sorrow echoing in my ears.

Goodnight.