She would whisper to me and her secrets were becoming. Our lives were as a foolish daydream. I was dreaming (I was someone else).
I would betray her. I would walk across the street and wander but soon I would cross back again. I would look at the dirt on the ground.
Then she came to see my bloody body. She saw me holding the knife. She started to cry. Then she left, she could not stay, she said she could not watch me as I cut into myself. Now I am here, I am here and I am dreaming, I am indifferent.
In the evening I walked. That evening I walked and I would not return. I sleep outside now and I eat the snow or the rodents. I live amongst the trees. In the abandoned beauty of the wasteland.