Loneliness is the fast food of paradise. I’ve eaten snow to prove I have a car to policemen who piss themselves in church. In every iteration of my longing for immediacy, my son dies. Or is cared for by an eternal stranger. Water is made of the mourning that knows it can’t take bread anywhere. The day the writers left me in Ohio I was mid sentence mid sick son mid cigarette ( star
to a ghost
) The blue remote oh hidden in the watching of its angel's waist-high mirror)
There are two ways to be invisible to god.
Learn the second.
kingsoftrain 
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