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I never expected the expected when life goes down like the checklist in your father’s hand, you endure it. you endure it. even when the classes you take gut punch your curiosity. or the joy you force down your throat at graduation, underwhelms. or the years of nine to five, create caverns of despair in your ribcage. even then, you endure it. you endure it. because you live for seconds. because you live for the universe within. because you know how to build galaxies with your hands. these very hands that have set you free, again and again. and you find your peace. so you endure it. you endure it. and then you slip and lay in the place between your mother’s hands and waterfalls catch in her lap. and you endure it. you endure it. because you’ve never truly been safe except in blood that calls you. and you’ve never truly been home in blood that calls you. but you know where to look. you know where to look. and you find them. some, caught in the break of light on concrete between 39th and

You told me I ought to smile more, That I'd look better If I smiled. So I did that. I smiled. And my smile grew wider. And you, as much an abuser As I am to these poor italics, Quivered. You said, "All right, Maybe that's enough For today." I said, "What? I thought You wanted me To smile." And my lips, my cheeks, Grew all the more wide, Eyes bulbous. And you said, "All right, Maybe you should put down That big, scary knife. Wait, where did you—?!" And I said, "Oh! Right. This little thing. Ha, silly me! Silly, silly me, With my inability To smile." "Okay, all right," you said. "I get the point!" "No," I said, my eyes and smile As wide now as possible. "But you will." And I raised the knife— Cleaving my writer's block neatly Into two pieces, which stood At an awkward angle, then Collapsed dully, Hollow insides Billowing out the lilac smoke Of imagination, which I Breathed in, Returning all at once To my former self. "Oh, oops! Sorry about that," I said, Putting away the