Everything else buried with the grout and the blood.

I don’t expect you to know this story.  This boy barely has one.  Typical angry teen, overly competitive, snide, rude, thrilled by the opportunity to flip off the camera, prouder of that than of the buildings he’s destroyed.  He’s arrogant and lazy, like all the others, except he’s surprisingly profound, realistic, and practical behind his ambitions.  The opposite of Nestor-10 and all cute-kid when he grins, almost making me want one.

What’s appealing about a creature that acts its age?  Dead, dying, spread in ceiling divination, I recognize you in all your forms.  Why must I keep looking at your blank face, inserting looks of outrage until I’m out of dimes?  You feign contempt, starved for love, begging to be held, and why is this, always, where I lose my nerve.

Creative Commons License
This work by V. Manivannan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

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