Chrisoula beside me in darkness breathing. Footsteps in the hall. The Last Night on Earth passes suicidally, what did you think was going to happen? Every blow of the hammer constructing the gallows can be heard inside the prison. This again.
The one who "gets it" vs. the one who "reads me." You again, again. Times I've stood in the rain waiting, times I've said fuck it and gone inside. There's only one goodbye, what else did you think was playing on a loop in the background? Think of the distance between our grandparents, think of the mail. Think of all the distance in all the time ever.
Blue collar drunks, failed priests and farmers, brothers all: let us lift a glass to the ones who went ahead, may they hold the gate to Heaven wide a second longer than the devil has to spare. Chrisoula beside me in the darkness, my dead father trying to clarify something about prayer. Those who know, those who don't et cetera. Was there something you meant to say but didn't?
The calf didn't get buried, the calf didn't even die. There were no answers because there were no questions.
When something breaks, the game is let's find and punish the one who did it, and I am always the one.
I didn't think we were playing for real, that's why. I forgot it was a game.
My lover, my helpmeet, my long sweet fall into nothing.
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