There are serene moments in life that don't make sense. Laying flat on my back watching the stars fall right the fuck out of the sky, like love, while the cicadas sing until their membranes are raw with vulnerability.
Covered in soot, the fireman telling me that my dad's ate up corpse was found near the kitchen door, leading to the mudroom. Calmness like fog, calmness like fucking fog.
Once, I stood on the lip of a canyon and brought iron into my lungs.
Things, some things anyhow, make my skull break apart, make my blood a mudslide.