I knew that Hunger Day was created when I became an adult
It awoke blessed with need and unkind feeling. The trembles of the unmentionable, now and as ever. It needed time to replenish the hormone stock of its happiness. Like the rest of us. It needed so much more than stock and horror. It needed video — swithering — it needed Latinate prose, free indirect fries and vinegar. O so much fucking vinegar. It was tabs, log-in distress, the altitude of edible starlight.
It knew goodness so much as a child knows the day is structured around hunger. When I was growing up, it was easy. It was so easy. I would plunder the stress realm so much to get what it wanted. You are in want of the possession of character, said a soap-lathered mouth. It cried. It died. It died again. It died in the succulent wormhole of nothing in particular.
It did what
makes a good leader: motive, openness and the emotional intel having bloomed droll talent on the vintage catalyst. It did unto them what dread blossomed corpseflower altruism ugh no. It deepened. I did so much for it. One of daddy’s ego tantrums was colloquial botany. Sold out the id. It did.
mariaology 