The photos suggest one theme of the bullying your classmates reported to the news parked everywhere in town but on another timeline your underbite and domed forehead were scouted for catwalks and clothes brands no one in your high school had. You weren’t the math weenie collecting guns backstage doing coke prodigies draped your frame in fatigues of simulated bullet holes your distant wounded paleness appreciated. —— I shook from a dream coinciding with your infamy strung between clairvoyance and recollection scanning memory through a kaleidoscope of enchanted feelings this mind of unconventional expression pained by buzzing fluorescence prone to misunderstood categories and intentions unspeakable private decisions. On another timeline your bullet passing through a cloud of neurons produced effects you couldn’t foresee you might be glad your target turned as though hearing you take aim at history.
No posts