Was his voice strange because of the telephone, or because of something else?

The real grief is not having anyone to grieve with.

That.

A fortnight before I had met my doggy daddy I had lost my mother.

I was uncomfortable, and I could just tell that something was wrong.

That’s how things could keep happening.

You come to believe that the beast was meant to be there.

He is alone, moving like a soft fog

as if toys are born after nine months of hope

Stay for lunch.

the colours have started humming

I'm here for your sake.

I was also a giant purple squirrel.

and where else to go / but deeper?

And struggle she did.

My pen's ink wanders and doodles

I remember saying these things 

Hi. My name is…

I’m told my brain was in flames

His Technicolor pictures hang on my bedroom wall.