this is where i leave you to take on another form, to change into my less becoming but more flattering form of whatever species i identify with at the moment because it's always changing, like the waves and currents of a sea, like the fall of rain and the twisting of old back streets through the hills of lower alabama, because that's the real truth here, the feel of the wind in our hair and the rain at our teeth and the salt in our eyes and the blood far far away in some distant land, the pain and fear pushed back into some little cupboard which contains some of your old equipment and medication you used to numb the pain but no longer did because what's the point in making it better when it was already not as bad as it could be. all you needed was some music in a poorly lit room that smelt like warm peaches and drink some cold lemonade that went heavy on the sugar, tasting like diabetes and loving every second of ruining your own body, your own temple but that's okay, that's all you wanted, a bit of vandalism is no fun if it's on something irrelevant.
