Miniature Horses

I have many miniature horses on a windowsill. But I miss you in the basement. I filmed many horror things when young. I filmed many tongues and hair and disguises for a few pen pals. My pen pal lived in Australia, and I memorized her attitude in order to use it. I wasn’t the one to run after him with a baseball bat from the snow cone shop. I drove my black Celica into the night. I was in the passenger seat getting calm with chamomile. I memorized the window screen and the mosquitoes in the wipers. I felt like I was in the wiper. I filmed many nights in the woods with the fire and whiskey and teenagers. I slipped out of windows as a teenager. I filmed many horror things. I dipped my toes into ice ponds and got rid of my clothes. I hung out with the boys and their socked up penises. I held his hand. I dropped his hand. I cut his hand. I burned a cigarette on his hand. When does the violence begin so early. And when does the basement dry out. Get the water out of it. I have many miniature horses.