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his caged birds don't singit was like when we were five
and unable to drown the fish
in your mothers aquarium.
we later realized that we could drown them.
we could do so by taking them out of water
and we did.
it was like when we were ten
and i would find you in the backyard
of your moss-covered house,
sitting on a lawn chair with bare feet
and rolled up jeans.
you would sit there all day,
filling plain paper with pictures and words
that no one would ever understand.
it was like when we were fifteen
and you would spend your time standing
as close to the cliff as you could without falling
but i think you were secretly hoping
that someday youd slip.
it was like today
when you were finally the first to look away.
what do you want most? you once asked.
back then i wanted a lot of things.
i wanted to believe that sex was only science,
like you did.
i wanted to live in a world where nameless,
faceless people could pretend
they were something more than no
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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