i sit on the stone ledge next to the electric fire in the dream that my mother has manifested, my father sits opposite, in a chair where the couch should be, once was, never shall be again. the darkroom kindled by the static of the tv and the flooding lights of mortal confidence, my eyes still blessed by astigmatic compass-free delusions, contort the earthly flashes of yellow, white, and red each into nyc fireworks i dare to only dream of. Bon Jovi music videos blaze my father's soul whilst he asks me song after song "do you remember this one", as if he played it for me hundred times. IT WAS ONCE. no matter, everything is as it should be. my heart beat is steady and my veins are yet to paint the sky in blood. i never had patience like the girls playing with barbies but i do have murderous thoughts that force reevaluation. my mind forces my patience but my arteries want sugar and spice.
