This Is How Frantic I Hollowed Out. There’s a stale growth of thickened words in my esophagus that won’t go away or dissolve with the large amount of fluids I’ve quaffed. For quite a few moons now that I’ve stayed by her side and she had been the one putting me to sleep, (bundling me in thick blankets, and nimbly stroking my body or hair) her yodels softening some ancient lullaby every single morning. One night, as I sat there watching my gangling hands turn hungry in the advancing light and laid my weepy head down on her swollen abdomen, I had come close to making her retch in pain and apathy.
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