where can i scream? allow the monster in my throat to explore? spew anger, sadness, joy, the bile digesting the final pieces of the quiche? release the tears with salt from detroit mines, at whichever speed, viscosity, amount is needed, at whatever decibel for me to loosen the patterns that grab at my throat, bind my thoughts, dictate my stride. tell the monster in my gut, that i’m looking for a place for them to
be in the world. they deserve a home separate from my body. who have we killed? how have we harmed? what have we done that means their existence must be stifled? hidden?
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do you root for the prince or the dragon family who had been living there for eons prior? tell me how you define your monsters. are they simply entities hidden in the dark or the bigots who reinforce prison for expired parking tickets?
tell me who you root for during the bullfight.
