milestones
at birth, your life flashes before your eyes. you have a brother and with him think that if one could record the exact moment of your mother’s dying, her death will disappear. the drink in your glass is made from the skin that couldn’t bring itself to be your mouth. some of it is crying but most of it is putting the word fuck in its place. out of necessity you create a crow that you might be warned of its crow-like replacement. your hands stick to what they know.
kingsoftrain 
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