The agony is unfocused, I just know I want to carve into it, dig and drag my fingers, these knives, shards of mirrored glass down its sides. I just know I want to scream and freeze it in the frame I will eventually break over someone’s face. I am too well grounded these days. I am too heavy, my bones too thick, my body a greasy burlap sack bleeding from too many dead cats still shrieking- isn’t the grave supposed to be a quiet place? I can’t escape the noise and yeah I’m so well fucking grounded this burial is redundant. I learned how to breathe dirt, how to think meat, how to move slumberous, oozing sweatfat. I’m one of you and it’s less painful than eating glass though equally useful, pleasant, necessary. I tried to belong but now I’m too heavy, I was too big to begin with and how do you flood an ocean? You pave it over. Desalinate and bottle the water. Level the mountains thirty miles under that intergalactic sea and build a strip mall a hobby lobby dunkin donuts an Academy. You’d figure I’d be dead by now the way all this identical shitty mass produced architecture drowned me down. It’s amazing what you can survive when it’s not just your life on the line.