nov 2016 (11/3/20)

flashback to dead autumn, baby blue light stinging eyes with speech alcohol for days, hours 'till the end, then diving into a navy blue coma of watching the raindrops careene down the windows, an outspoken blush pudge child being slammed into a four year grave. at least we went peacefully. numbly. waking up the morning and feeling a single wave sentence, unlike this time. having to stand and breathe and drive like the color of the earth hadn’t been squeezed. loudest kid. the only one with a punch. broken hands and knuckle bruises like drained plums as the day flew by like hairy gum from a mouth and the wind blew at the gas station, the lights muffled and the speech dim, men who knew better on one dollar headphones, late into the night when stomachs became acquainted with the sick.