smoking with the windows up.
i've had these visions the past few days of being stabbed repeatedly. in the head, through the skull. no one having the humane rationale to stop it, so they all scatter or stare like no life is at stake, just a playground scrap. i imagine my blood on my driver's license. i think about building a graveyard stare to keep the wolves at bay. i think of men of no consequence. i think of their bearing down on me. nothing lost in their attack, though nothing gained. a violence to contribute to their sin, a pelt for their collection. my life dominated by fear for a solid three months. shame and nothing else. this is the dynamic.
feels like i left a record playing in the next room.