Meet David Augustus Smith
You can’t disappear here, I am already gone, a ghost of my ideal self, person you wish to rescue you from the dark angles bearing down on you. I am a flame, a nightmare, a cloven-hoof vision that is inverted and bloody, woven into the patterns of a life that was lost in the rain, in the Spring, in a million deceptions, secrets, secrets, secrets…”everything will come out eventually.” They keep telling me that. I cringe and think about a stinging sensation in my neck, as I am inundated by unsolicited pep talk.
Just another day. We all need one more day. It will all be okay tomorrow. Pinned-out eyes, ground-up teeth, the hours that repeat themselves–the eerie eternity. The silent misery, the collective sigh of death heaved on the shoulders of ants, and bees, killing themselves over labor, over love, over the nuanced mystery that leave us all in…
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