Right Enough

I killed everything. And nothing. The moment made it so. Meat cooking. Till it falls off the bone. I was coaxing the element. Looking for a reaction. But chemistry was never my thing.

The fairy tale. Now that I understand. Witches in the oven. Hard beds. Cold porridge. It's just how to go to sleep. We wake up different. The world biting its lip. Frightened.

Stories told. Sad men. With their faces in their hands. Salvation comes in short sprints. A finish line of sorts. Time wasted a reminder. Of all the dead things it took to have us live.

These little lives we say belong to us. Yet never really did.

Parasites survive the heat. The fingernails are bitten. The drug is preppped to consume. The flawless compartments in my suitcase. That differentiate residence from destination.

The first taste is warm. The third. The fourth. All too cold.

Evolution comes in convulsions. Passive episodes. The bald chaos every word foretells. The man asks. Where are you going? The child answers.

Home.

She spits out his penis. Like she would any chewing gum. Disappointed that all the flavor is gone.

Again. He says. To emphasize the question. Where are you going?

Home she says.

All this nothing. I can't do it anymore.