morning in grey coast
Shout through fevers of 1979. My life ambition was a grey tunnel through the wall. I am ashamed to admit I was the weakest link in my family. They would've been better than fine without me. I was the sniper in tilting bell towers of the sinking church. Now look at all these grey puddles around us. My poor mother, my poor sisters: I have failed you.
My poor father in a flickering heaven.
My hands got cold enough to snap from their wrists. I am so sorry I let everyone down.