I’m Sorry,” He Repeats Again, Too Low

Things That Don't Matter When You've Lived The Same Day Six Times And Died On At Least Two Of Them: Lunch Meats And Their Relative Coolness.

They Didn’t Get Me, I Should Have Said. They Saved Me.

I Screamed Until My Voice Dried Up In My Throat. We All Did. All Of Us In Ward Six, All Of Us Forgotten, Left To Rot.

The Story Of Solomon Is The Only Way I Know How To Explain. And Then, In Smaller Letters: Forgive Me.

It Is A Beautiful World For The People Who Get To Play The Fist.