I don't want to trouble the waters. I don't want anything. I don't want to rest my head, left the ones that left for dead. and tomorrow I'll do it all again. I don't want that at all, no. My hands are shaking my voice grown confused of what is wrong and what is punishable. who will say the truth when they are called on to report the facts of what happened? what if they only wanted a touch, a nod, a semblance of recognition? what if I don’t want their structure(s) to fall.
"the study of what "is written" is also the science of what story we are compelled to invent in the face of what we cannot know is coming." –alexis pauline gumbs