I find these things, they pluck the moorings of my heart like guitar strings, breaking something loose to walk hungry and alone through my body:

The stars wanted to be near you. Because they missed you and your comet's tail. They made themselves tiny, rode all the way down to Earth on the backs of moths that had made it to the moon. They hid themselves in a sugar bowl. One morning you ate them on your cornflakes without knowing. Now, when you spill into me, you fill me full of fallen stars.

I wanted to be more myself. I did not know I was a needful creature without skin. Terminal acceleration in a crooked, ol' world.

I was slated to be the world's only poisonous mammal, but it's God's Most Ridiculous Creature who stands before you instead.

I found a list of names belonging to my son's animal personalities. Each animal had a seperate language. Different words for everything. I had started to transcribe the language, the words and translations. But when I asked him how the animals said goodbye, he told me none of his animals knew how to say goodbye. I didn't write down the rest.

My son, shrugging his shoulders into the yoke of a heart so much like his mother's. A deformity. Born with the heart outside the body. A cleft heart. Or maybe one with an extra chamber. A five-chambered heart, pushing the blood through this extra room, filled with light and sound. Where everything that you love and everything that ever hurt you break bread together. Where the meat is carved form the bone. And the piece you eat depends on your rank.

You know the sound it makes when The Devil rings up a sale.

You know a dream is a wish your heart makes.

You know what goes around comes around.

But do you know the story of The Snow Queen? How the demons made a mirror to amuse themselves? Given a rose it reflected only thorns. The demons, they decided to take the mirror up to Heaven. They did not even make it to the gate before the mirror burst. The glass came down, fine as dust, and some stuck in the eyes of a child.

That's the way real Fairytales begin.

"You gave your life for mine, when life is not worth living without you."

I will be thirty-three in 13 months.

I'm like the moon.