This time of year reminds me of the dot that completes my name. The dot over the letter that pertains to the first person singular is a symbol for me of my head. I always put on my dot when I'm already out of the word. At last I only have hope for heaven. I always wanted to say that.
Nobody wants crossed-out girls around.
Any agreement with them is difficult to achieve. Hanging in hammocks all day, they only know how to wisecrack. A sneaker hangs in their trees. No, I'm just here with my corpse. Double overalls like fences endlessly trespassing and nobody saying thanks for everything.