Listen: the growl is deafening. A cloud splits in two. What mythical wonder woke you?
Sleep executed by firing squad. (Oh, the marksman without a bullet cries and the woman on his finger languishes).
He who has blood on his temple will never raise the stone in his fist.
We keep the sins we commit. What is a secret if no one cares to know it?
Hunger, hunger from the day you were terribly born. (This is why she hates you). There is no milk for children made of glass.
That which is left behind is all for you. The curse is that you cannot touch it. Remember what came to you through death will go through you like water. Still, the dead keep giving.
Wind shoves its tongue down your throat. A brass bird revels in rain. Someone runs into traffic with an inverted umbrella, dances, and shakes loose coins from her belly.
Hunger, again, for dog meat, good enough to eat, so, why not eat it? Filaments of lightning sear your morning-eye then burn out.
Phones ring with too much treble. Every time it is her–I want you back. The house shakes. Sleep shatters: a plane crash.
It was wrong of me to take a swig of vodka at the funeral. I did not want it, or its meaning.
I pity the most unusual things. And there was no charm in this creature: dwindling fur, black, broken teeth, ember-eyes and skin thin as a frog’s. Nauseating.
Why did it come here? Was it for souls? I thought to feed it raw bacon wrapped to a wooden stick, but it took what it came for.
The sun rises and we hunger. The sun sets and we hunger. It is only one hunger that matters.