He finds an odd comfort as he intermingles with the mortals. He knows he is not one, knows he does not belong, and the people have caught on-- but he stands among their ranks. He may live a longer life, experience more than any of them could ever hope to dream of, but he views them as equals: these humans, these people who are born knowing that one day they will die. His endless expanse of experience is nothing compared to his bottomless fear of death. He doesn't know how the humans do it, live every day with the knowledge that they're marching to their graves. And so he fights for them, in the way that wars happen now. He picks up a sign and marches to the streets, crying "Black lives matter!", because they do. Because even though all humans die, he knows they should be equal in this, equal in the life they're given. He laughs about a horse in a hospital because humour is one of the only bandages he knows, the only way he knows to help. He drank a bottle of perfume, and they laugh at his mistake without realizing it would be fatal to any but Mulaney himself. For while his life stretches ever onward, it only holds meaning because of those that don't.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poems and Short Stories
PoetryI considered titling this something like "Rain's Droplets of Poetry" or something like that but ??? there is some vent poetry in here, I'll add warnings before each chapter that contains these
