as an adolescent, he toyed with the idea that he was a vision of god’s and set himself on a path to befriend the less conversational bodies of fractured families but found it was too much like giving candy to the poor.  his disenchantment carried him into my early twenties where I became his father for an amount of time shorter than the left to right the eyes employ to take note of the baby often placed at the beginnings of horror movies.  his mother lost the use of her elbows trying to swing him away from the mouth his sorrow came with.  her plainness landed him on his first victim’s radar.  when we love him at the same time, our love reaches the society of secret special effects.