There has been an anger stuck deep in my brain that's there because the past cannot come again. When I make the mistake of thinking too much and brooding on images I cannot clutch, and missing dead people like Mom Dad and Grammy I suffer a jaw-clenching, swift double whammy. I yearn for the people I see in my head, then remember – Oh yeah, that's right, they're all dead – then feel like I want to just tremble and break and scream from my lungs with each breath that they make. Instead I'll go surfing and bob in the waves, and try to be thankful in two or three ways, and beg for the souls of my ancestors dear, who are always with me, up between my ears.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
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