Curled up in a corner with her paper clip crown buried deep inside a book she waits and dreams Dragons and castles moonlight and secret love caress her mind Her drugs. The present is washed out like the words on a wet newspaper just barely visible and impossible to comprehend She floats away to her happy land that smells of her mother's perfume and feels like her touch No colored faces just black and white photographs scattered on the floor with notes on the back in her mom's pen Old records play skipping occasionally making them giggle and screech Her novel ends and her face streaks with tears no longer able to make a distinction between reality and fiction or past and present.
