I am crushed into cardboard boxes, strangled in brown tape bondage. To avoid the carnage I navigate around the stacks, look to either side and past them, look at the curtains I made and the fancy rug and the past and the future but never at the now or the empty closet. That blackness will suck me in, first the air from my lungs then blood through my pores and all my holes then my powdered bones and at last the meat of me. Where I stood is a void but for the toys I leave to my once and always almost children and the easter egg for the man who avoided and voided me.


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