Six months without seeing a spider. Eight dreams where I am strangled in the same house. Transition isn’t the right word, but it is exact. Pain isn’t pain until it wants children. Suicide is god learning to walk. Every bomb is imperfect. The wrong people live under brevity’s brief star. I love my body but at some point I am sold on soap. Look fucker. The human body is a paused magic. My son is dying and what matters is that three angels livestream surgery techniques from inside a tattoo shop vandalized by proverbs. There are stories you’ll have to tell death. Practice on wildlife.
kingsoftrain 
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