from a porch, double shot

guided mistakes found their mission in the cast iron skillet we inherited from your cousin who couldn’t keep a job or a spouse that’d listen to what her father did that sent him to prison, a sentence too long with little punctuation in play it was the fear of going away that made him stay with her shackled to his ankle while lights out was called and she was ten thousand miles away from any luxury afforded to those who affront our notion of what it means to be decent.

i told them to shut up.

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