21 March 2024
A good bruise goes a long way because it remembers a Hereditary outburst. And straining for a low pass knob. And a fart first impression. And legal action by association. And pouring nuclear hot sauce all over its food with a broom to its head. And hearing gunshots at the door so hiding in its bedroom only to step in dog shit in the dark. And when laundry was too expensive, getting on its hands and knees to wring it in a bathtub. And a cop’s flashlight like a tunnel to the passenger seat. And losing some scalp getting out of the car under barbed wire. And fighting the Anima under the spell of dark matter. And the rush of illegal dumping within legshot of a ranger. And a shadow downing beer after beer because it was the only cold thing. And mini escapes to the coffee shop shackle, the cotton mouth walk, an army of tiny knives carving into its ribs to laughing detonations outside its bedroom window with Marvin Gaye no curtains for demons crawling out of its night stomach holding inability to keep time or track of permanent ongoing renovations like shaving a circle down to a single molecular point.
And a broken axle road trip. And a looking glass living room. And waves of dried sweat marking hat circumference. And garaging detritus. And a clean mirror in a familiar bathroom feet on pink purpose. And sleep in the shape of a fetus.
And the sun on a pulley in the morning.