i wish i understood how the world went by,
but i can’t seem to sync up the music with
the rhythm of the tides
as they come crashing into the shore,
while a family of 2 adults and 2.5 children sing rap songs
a capella from paterfamilia’s childhood
there’s a line i keep following,
though it’s not a line that i’m aware of,
nor is it particularly deterministic,
nor random,
but a loose thread being tugged at,
violently, and without remorse,
until the line and everything following it,
aka me,
is disastrously splayed out in the middle of the kitchen
in a crime scene that no one is responsible for,
because no one else
saw what happened,
and that’s the story they’re sticking to
Fred Aiken Writing 