The solution

We figured it out, it's torture 

I have fired the psychologist, abandoned the church, my parents are locked in the dining room and I’m burning my house. Don’t worry that I understand, everything is clear and explicit between the lost part of the eighth book.

I have lit the cigarette, my cats are running on the roof and my friends have good intentions but I don’t need that, so estrangers are better.

I have caught the solution that kills itself every time I woke up. I am in a peace that now I can throw my papers to the wind and leave a note in the ten houses on my block and let the world turn.

Because this is it we are okay, I know that I have to take a chair and serve the tea with my blood. We are perfect, letting the pills go and writing dementia that I’m screaming at sealed lips and I kiss you with teeth that leave you burning.

TA.