Splat (cry) reboot

He stares across the wreckage of a living room floor,
thousand yarding like the best of the already dead.
When I give birth to something angelic,
he thinks,
I will take it by its verbs,
tell it I love it,
then hold it to my throat and say:
soon you too will fracture.
I don’t know shit about
perfection in any sense other than the fleeting.
So enjoy thi-

He looks down,
feels something heavy and ancient let go.
He sees an ocean lapping at his feet.
Something meat wet and warm slaps the floor,
and he dives in.

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