I try to write but sometimes I cannot. When I can I feel myself locked up in a sense of language. What is sense and what is language I do not know. Why do I to write? There is no need to think of this as an exercise in my thoughts this song ended very abruptly but all that I know all that I feel sometimes is a need to go out of language and try to feel the way my perceptions turn into words or cannot. She tells me I should see patterns in things. I lie. She does not tell me so. Nobody tells me to see patterns in things in walls in the sweat I put on the walls of my little bathroom. I do not put sweat it is only water. But yesterday I saw a duck and a boy on the wall. I threw the water that ran down from the tap to my fingertips and then I saw them. The duck was behind the boy. Was it a boy? I cannot begin to look at this. Sometimes I try to read the way the fan moves above my head. And then I try looking at lizards. Lizards never scream they watch and they eat and sometimes they grow fat. She told me that she does not like homosexual hulos. But I do not know enough about them to comment. I look at cats and dogs and lizards and I try to see what they mean. I talk to dogs but then it frustrates me when they do not talk balk back. But when they do I know they are connected to me more than others. The pink elephant tries very hard to fit behind the sofa but it cannot. It is a balloon but it is still an elephant. And the sofa can never let anything hide behind. I still remember the day when he tried to kick her through the net. i wanted to kick him harm him tear his eyes out. I remember. But then I served him one fish and asked if he wanted more. I took my foot away I refused to kick I refused to put my stitched foot anywhere I refuse I refuse. She is still fat and she still calls me but I cannot forget the day she locked me out. Now she wants to be locked in but I do not want. I run. But even after she locked me out and locked that diary in I put my head on her shoulders when I was coming home. That night he put his hand under my head I do not remember very clearly how. I did not love him I cannot love him but I still love him. Sometimes I need to remember sometimes I force myself to remember sometimes I only nod and smile civil when I cannot remember but I try so hard to remember. I remember only one day when he took her out but they did not take me because I would ask for toys. i stood beside the door but I could not cry so I spit on my hand and rubbed that on my eyes I wanted to tell them that I was crying I wanted to and I was really crying but the tears refused they refused so much I used saliva. They saw me crying standing behind that door but still they would not take me but when they came back they had that toy I wanted for sometime. there was a girl she was thin and older and she told me that I must play cards with her. I told her a nasty thing to say but I do not remember anymore so she went away. She came back all the time. It was my birthday I gave him two cubes of the chocolate I had and at night he gave me something wrapped I knew it was a gift a very nice gift but not what. It was so well wrapped I started peeling it off peeling it off peeling it off till I saw two pieces. It was not broken but still it was two. I never felt sad when he died. But I rubbed talcum on his back and learnt stories. I sat beside the window and looked at them playing football I leaped on to the bed and leaped again to the chair and then it hurt so bad I was dying. Hospital but when I saw the doctor everything was fine no pain no pain anymore. That little room the size of a mattress and that woman who kept groaning cancer was eating her up and the man who reminded me of the hunchback of notre dame and how he looked at her when she took a bath she could not take her clothes off. One day I punched his back he said that he loves me so we walked in the rain we were soaking and we had some food and ran ran ran till we came home he was wet and he put out his wallet to dry all the money I looked and saw so much money but wet money. One day she came back home with many chocolates and a shirt I wore for many days till she took it away. When she wore my shirt the dog he barked and he was telling her to take off my shirt but nobody understood the dog and he kept barking and crying he wanted to see the shirt off her back but nothing happened. Finally she said that maybe it is the shirt she took it off and wore another shirt and he slept like an angel on the floor I patted him good dog but not so good he bit off some flesh he was sick and his intestines were coming out I cried under the shower. I cried under the shower. I cried under the shower.
