The Revival Project

I feel like I'm drowning and no one can save me. No one aside from me. The only escape from this dream is death. So I take it. Only, it isn't a dream.

My son, Wilhelm Maneretta killed himself. It wasn't my fault. I know this, because he wrote it down. In poems and stories and dreams. And beauty. He was artistic and careful and precise and crazy and unfundamental and innocent and guilty and alive.