Bite
Teeth sharpen in the dank, split open the bone.
I just got back from two weeks in Mexico for my 33rd birthday — sun, ruins, rain. The belly button of the world, the center everything folds toward.
There’s a cleansing before everything, a tooth snagging the inside of the mouth, a thin line splitting the dark. The air stiffens. The words pile in the corner and wait for the signal.
