A swollen feeling from the disjointed anthropomorphic webbings to the stringing puppet-line ligaments, singing in a graceful, yet miscalculated dance. Cheater, he said in jest. The room dark as I hid behind my own reflection in front of self. There were at least five deer and one seemed to overlook the sunken eyes of a passing soul. The chair beside him, not quite the same of the green hems of her company, but a familiar embrace. He was a bastard sometimes, yet we all are. My temperament glows like a hot kettle slapped across the milky way. Dissonant and protective, hiding behind the train whistles. “What are you currently listening to?” The fan overhead spins its shadows with a soft whirr as the humid dark sky is nothing more or less than a moment of stillness. They sang a song of North Carolina over sirens and screeching tires and I wondered if that was a sign to escape. Tell me how to love and heal. My eggs do not feel like they are protected by the hen.