He was born in fury and he lived in lightning.

My back ached and you stole some of it on the way out. I’m not ashamed that you attempted to find me near midnight, because I was alone too.

I was hypnotized, seeing zombie-eyes that held me in my place. The skin on my hands matched the temperature outside as I buried my head in your lap. I’ve never felt actual silk or fine thread, but I could feel the stitches from past rips and tears on your thighs. Your thin hair poured on my face as you looked down at me; a high priest wondered who they would purify next. Heat rose along my neck and ears like some red-wine finally meeting my conscious. I want to end up in the ocean one night, wake up freezing and stare into some dark void, tremendously feeling absolute loss. I won’t look for any form of light. I won’t grab for any oxygen. I will wither and drown,