the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part VIII
now it came to pass the days when the doll couldn't understand just why she cared so much. that and she also couldn't wrap her head around just why she was so damn nice. and, the worst thing was, most of the garbage kat wrote was centered on skid row, on the edge of the primrose hills - with cool breeze and the lions - the acidheads. and this garbage was eaten up by all of the people. so the doll, once she had 'disinfected herself from that creep,' thought herself above it. but everyone knew. she tried to run - she tried to hide. and one night, she could hide no longer. one night, a fading star whom the doll would rather be caught dead with than stick in her pocket, could have sooner slapped our sweet and humble baby babble. so she was out of there like a flash. she had sad eyes, but it was only because she knew better. and to the stars and only the stars, maybe the night sky as well, she whimpered, in between sobs, "o how i wish i were smarter, forget the what happened, i got stuck. my hurt and my hunger murders me in and out. no, no, i am not ok." and this was straight truth the doll spit. she could do nothing less and nothing more. she needn't be reminded, but, alas she was. and here we are. no wind was blowing. the moon was gaining weight in the sky, with heavy bags. things were in bloom. although dwindling, you could find what you were looking for if you looked hard enough for it. the kat expected some sort of slack to be given but by now too much time, the cruel mistress of all, had ran away and so if slack was to be given it would have been given a lot longer. so the doll began to stay in and withdraw. things went sour. it was not like before where maybe someday things would be ok - our blossom had dug herself a pit a mile deep and a foot wide with nothing but a pinhole for the sky and she could do nothing but dream of getting out. it took forever and a day. but she kept wishin' and hopin' and dreamin' - and one night, when she was feeling exceptionally down, a shadow fell over her shoulders - over her mind - and whispered, 'good things. in this place, where it is good and bad, life has a funny way of working itself out. and if you let it, o sweet doll, o kat of such generous nature who should be seated up high with crowns upon crowns, i will give you nothing more than what you deserve.' wiping her eyes with shaky hands, the doll allowed herself to get low just so she could get high.