I lived in that house my whole life. We shed too much skin there, the place is a hive of my DNA. I want to fly to New York, and the opposite. I want to be clean, to be new and singular, to come from no one and nowhere. My scars will recede into skin, even the lesion we made on my leg; my navel shrinking to smooth, perfect flesh. I will not exist. I will be absolutely everything.
I am absolutely everything. I use people like soundboards, like blank sheets of paper. I am incapable of permanence; of sex and love and like and life all rolled into one. I believe in fiction and I don’t cry at the news but any story can reduce me to tears. We should face our fears. I am incapable of permanence. I should get a tattoo.
I wanted to reach out to a boy last week, a lonely thing. But everyone is lonely and they see him and they scream for him. We should face our fears. He should disappear.
