"Your shit stinks mom." Open the window. Let some air in. Inhale. Exhale. Wash the dishes. Not that way. Fill his pockets with change. With sausages. With Soil. Maybe he'll plant his own garden. Maybe he'll rip us off when we aren't looking. "When the bow breaks the cradle will fall.." Thump. Pang. Thump. Look up. When the songs play on repeat. Repeat. Nuances. "Your shit stinks mom."
Wink. Think. Blink.
Make fists with a dry mouth.
Internet flagellation
