StartANewLif3

how many summers did you spend couched in west virginia? street smitten, sore legged pacing the fence of adolescent mess in mountain’s maw, raining angel’s ash, the absolute heat death of july forever finding homes in someone’s sister’s basement, curled in a messy bedroom, growing pains in your shins getting taller couldn’t relieve against grainy adult swim shock toons estrogenic mall musk and slurpee vomit mom going on and on about some lie you told, or didn’t as if you culled the children to the cellar and beat them before you were born, as if you were a songless canary in a coal mine collapsing do