08-00-2019
She found me. Long ago the man was boy. He stood in her garden, and was met with subtle embrace. Beneath her delicate cascade the jagged thorns of entropy. Three miles east of Nowhere, down past the broken fence, Tetanus City stands above a contour of shattered glass.
The places of my youth did not stand still after my vacancy from adolescence. When I return I stand in the valley of displacement. The place in no longer ruptured halls of her tomb, but instead lies barren. The boy wishes that his thoughts were digital instead of analogue, and that his box of photographs wouldn’t change each time he looked upon them.
