don't panic.

"Polar Bears with their yellow-dirty jaws are walking past the window. Window of the hut, where she sleeps, forever, covering her cold feet. And the scent of her hair, kills off the bad thoughts, taking them away. Her face is stranded in the corner of her bed, eyes wide open, looking at the wires and the innards. Even the roaches laugh, one at a time, from out of her bed, at her glance, and of the madman that she calls friend. He is a boy.

The hut is called by her name, only by her voice. She is inside, and all is so peaceful. Like the last of the sunny days. The strange, twisted man, that come to her door from time to time. They knock, and knock, and knock, like they have all of the time. But their song is hostile, like the pushing walls of horns, that make ties, between that boy and this girl, at night."