In this year of facing your mortality, the same lesson etches itself deeper and deeper, again and again into your soul, everytime as if it was the first time. Death is real. That’s the lesson. Every time it scares you…
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No one ever told you the Minotaur was hung. You’d heard whispers, but always wondered if that was a little racist, like “all monsters are hung,” that kind of thing. But when you saw him for the first time?
You gaped. You stared. You felt small and you felt…was the reddening from shame or from sex?
You felt turned on.
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Dear Buwaya baby, Even a land can be jealous. Even a volcano can get sick of its own disruptions. It’s easy to find the fault lines. Pointed blame is just that. I’d never blame you, buwaya. The land rips open so that the ocean fish can get slick along the fissure. That atlas moth was employed to cover it up — a scapegoat with wings...
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