Inertia consumes my atoms.
In a rectilinear movement towards no infinite place.
Contractions take my left side, pain makes it difficult to think clearly.
But it’s been so many years of living with her that I simply absorb the impacts and smile.
After a while, it’s easy to say that everything is fine.
The worst is coming and hope is a monster.
Why the hell would she be in Pandora’s pot?
