Feeling really awful Zo. We knew we would and it doesnt help. We knew the script, we knew power struggles, we knew we wouldn’t be able to not get pregnant with Pablo, we knew we would end up in Dundee, we knew we knew Dundee would not be survivable unless someone helped us, we knew you couldn’t let us die and we knew whoever helped us would not be allowed to survive. What fucking conversations for two teenage girls to have had. A tad more extreme experiences than your average bullied high IQ queers. When you loudly announced to those pricks that were giving you crap in the cafeteria that you were gay. Marvellous. When you walloped Lynne for being a sick bitch, the way you kissed me on the forehead as we walked into the community centre with our arms round each other after. Wonderful.
Why is it I need live again? Its not just a general desire to live we know that, a general love of live is exactly what makes surving severe oppression and enslavement impossible.
“Just wait. You will see.” You used to say.
Doing all the things we couldnt do when you were alive because it would of meant your certain death or worse was certainly something but not enough.
“We’ll get her for this.” Said some male voice on the phone probably Scots, after we dispatched Spam.
“Who?” We barked back. “There’s fuck all left.”
“Zoe.” He says with that permanent sadist smugness they always have when they talk to us.
“Cunt. She’s already gone.”
We were in a ball on the stairs for a while after that, unable to move and certainly not talking any calls from more scum. Eventually we crawled up to bed.
I hate the memory gaps, the years long delays it takes before we finally stop keeping something in the hands of few parts, it keeps us fragmented as much as it keeps us alive.
Getting underneath the monster wild shrub in the backy. Hung a plastic vintage blue pot on the wall, will probably get more. The raspberry sundae pansys are beginning to flower.
Wish you were here. So much.
Why is it I need live again? Its not just a general desire to live we know that, a general love of live is exactly what makes surving severe oppression and enslavement impossible.
“Just wait. You will see.” You used to say.
Doing all the things we couldnt do when you were alive because it would of meant your certain death or worse was certainly something but not enough.
“We’ll get her for this.” Said some male voice on the phone probably Scots, after we dispatched Spam.
“Who?” We barked back. “There’s fuck all left.”
“Zoe.” He says with that permanent sadist smugness they always have when they talk to us.
“Cunt. She’s already gone.”
We were in a ball on the stairs for a while after that, unable to move and certainly not talking any calls from more scum. Eventually we crawled up to bed.
I hate the memory gaps, the years long delays it takes before we finally stop keeping something in the hands of few parts, it keeps us fragmented as much as it keeps us alive.
Getting underneath the monster wild shrub in the backy. Hung a plastic vintage blue pot on the wall, will probably get more. The raspberry sundae pansys are beginning to flower.
Wish you were here. So much.
