It just ain’t right, son, let me be the first to tell you. It just ain’t right like sinking into a swimming pool full of some sticky violet jelly, on the deep end, the deep and silent end so murky that you cannot hear the sun nor see the laughing daylights of your mother and her rich lecherous cronies with their skins roasting in the sun—no, it is hazy down here and thick. Still, and noisy with the quiet in your ears your ringing ears. Where have you gone? Into the deep end, the blue the violet the gray the deep end under the boats away from the ships at last alone and sunk halfway to where you want to go. Bullshit. It is no wonder my body attacks itself; my mind does too it is all my fault it is genetic it is caprice of the universe what universe what the fuck are you even talking about do you even know what a universe is have you ever seen one can you touch it can you jump up and universe three times no but i bet i can waste one every day that i sit here backspacing.