something, everything is wrong
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Mark and Nina. False names, but utterly theirs. They were tiny little fat cheeked children with piercing voices and watery blue eyes. When they held me, I felt in love. When their mother and mine, in all but blood, told us to always be together; we were. Together even in war. War was ours, up until the gentle attentions of flame took it all. I had wanted to save them, but I’d done barely anything before being tossed into the fire (332th). I felt flesh slide off my bones, flames slurp my crimson marrow, immolate my thrumming heart, and steam my cursed blood.
I lived. Lived like I always did and was clad in the prison of the flesh and of the albicant room. Until a man killed his dog, his wife, and himself. Helga, Victor, and Ebba were left with bleeding holes in their skulls and I headed East. This is where I met a Persian who could kiss space goodnight, a Slav who could pat the matter betwixt realms into serenity, and a mushroom cloud soon loomed over me as I held a boy’s hand until the light popped out of his eyes. Around and around, I was drawn to meet Hope, Rage, Life, Mind, so many of them...
One day, my teeth shook and my nails trembled on a bus somewhere in Eastern America. I felt the tug.
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- Part 1 of something, everything is wrong
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Perhaps if you woke up on your other side, today would have gotten better.
You're as old as man, but man is still the beast that hurts you most.
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- Part 2 of something, everything is wrong