DEAF + DUMB + DONE
then -
now -
archives - notes -
dl
twenty-seven november
three : twelve p.m.
my hands clothes hair smell like cigarettes, and i don't care if they find out, because my cat is gone forever. wrapped in a towel, eyes still open, side shaved from where they tried to drain the fluid.
i love you, riley. thank you for being what you were.