mister with his apple by the swamp. both my so(u)ls itch like mad. i put beeswax. my skin is born to die and itch and be born pink and new to itch and itch and die anew. and i make money by walking. what is my soul telling me.
sarah's mom's a monster who knows why. trauma comes of trauma, unless...what? we become conscious, responsible. love has to be the difference. without love we are subject to trauma in all kinds of insidious disguise. who knows why all these sick judges and dangerous precedents wreck havoc in our lives. they were miseducated, they were traumatized. it is so blatant, and so obvious. they are wretched and money won't ever be enough, they need the suffering of others.