tears have a hormonal function choked off withered love inside me I wasn’t as close them as I could have been when my grandfather died I pretended I didn’t care I’ve refused all grief blue is the color of rain

plague of the early years coming back there’s something depressing not in the facticity of death but in the way that we let it happen like it’s always an accident never an eventuality a petite bourgeoisie tragedy we bundle the dead off into eternity like the way we send garbage to a landfill

anthropology more than anything is the study of the way people are born and die inside the context of a civilization so what will the anthropology of the civilization I’m a part of be? I don’t even want to know