The Calendar stayed the same

The month of January always showed

Allthough she knew it was June -

Or July

with the 90-degree weather outside

but she stayed inside

Only in her room

Away from people

Away from time

She could still hear them all,

the birds that sang in the morning

the people that argued at night

The landlady was a dissgusting fuck

She was all hips

So big, her hips, looked like

she swallowed an old sail boat

forever she would rock up and down the creaking stairs

Sometimes, she would knock on the quiet girl's door

for rent -

and also to make sure the quiet girl was still alive

Suicide is bad publicity

The quiet girl was, of course,

Dead

by anyones standard

the only progress is staring at a wall

with a calendar on it

January is such

a funny word

Fucking hilarious

All the quiet girl knew

was that

the two months she had stared

at the wall

went by much quicker

than two days at that hell

the brick rusted hell of college

Drunk students

Bitter teachers

staring at the wall was far more satisfying

And when that final day came

when that fat woman's knock

was not met with a response

the fat woman sighed

in annoyance and dissgust

Suicide is bad publicity