I was sick of every ritual and carrying the candlelight across the empty swimming pool. I was crooked, I was missing you and noticed my depression was habitual (and couldn't teach it a lesson without the indiscretion of a box-cutter), laying in-between the bread and butter in the cupboard.
Graveyard workers work the same shift.
When the poles shift, everyone's forgetting who they came with.
The elephant will never forget: I swung upon his trunk until his body was wet in his own blood.