It seemed that the air itself was filled with the buzz of words, but with her death the words were merely sounds to fill the space. The words themselv...s were dead, and fluttered to the wooden floor like clumsy flies. The owner of our words was wrapped in her shroud and lay in that simple dark box. And so, a chapel filled with a million spoke meaningless gibberish when we attempted to mourn and speak our greatest grief at losing our gift, our Muse. It seems ironic to me that the one moment when. Bring the bowl of ice with you. Yes daddy. And a few other things, your vagina is called a pussy, or a cunt. Understand? Yes Daddy I stood up, grabbed the bowl from the table, and walked over to Daddy, with my shirt still stretched below my boobs. I put the ice on the coffee table, and sat down on the couch beside Daddy. sit on the floor please. Yes daddy I then sat on the floor in front of daddy, on my knees, so that I could reach him better. No you gently put your hand up and down it like. More

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