A Sneaking Rage

I lay on the splintering wood. Weezer’s “California Kids” rattles through the back of my mind like a muddled memory. The smell of freshly-cut grass fills the air…Remember your breathing!… No need to be angry. Nothing is wrong. Still, the rage pools in the center of my brow, its acid dripping down to my lipsContinue reading “A Sneaking Rage”