I didn’t give you a friendship bracelet or a cheap metal pendant. Should’ve. Maybe then I’d remember, looking at it, why I chose you.

Silly to think there’s choice, that this isn’t a shit-storm of accident, hierarchical puppetry, occupations drawn together like code strings.

Forgive me, Will, but it’s better reason than silver I betray you. And when the crow asks, tell him, I could’ve strung your heart like Thanksgiving meat, but I kept you, close, like Krueger.

I’ll sweat you in my dreams, with endorphins.


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