Dear David,
Are we instinctually time?
Have I imagined my entire life?
Do you seize when she screams your name?
What are you?
You failed us, who failed you?
Where is your trauma held?
Do you see her in the air?
How? Just, How.
Was she your material? Damaged goods?
Do you remember yourself inside of me?
How does it feel?
How did it feel?
Why do you (still) exist?
Isn’t your dying a sort of living?
How many words do I have to write to build a photograph of you?
How comfortable are you?
Is your position in power?
What were you crafting inside of me?
What did the cracking of bone sound like to you? (music)
What has less power than a shadow?
Was I your fetish?