mother is too far gone to start small.  she is, as they say, pinpointing the outcome of a child blessed with field vision.  I am not my father.  my father is one of three men shortlisted for your sister’s pregnancy by the cult viewership of a propaganda film that showed my brother’s brain sticking out of a blanket.  my father brings my brother like a knife to a knife fight as heaven and hell receive different parts of the same bomb.  with another word for word, I have a woman on the inside who at mine will recover god from god’s plan and your daughter’s kite from a manhole.