Second Coming

    My stomach muscles unclenched today as I climbed out of the shower. I can really feel my blood now. I feel as if my balls have dropped further.

    I’m 26 years’ old—I think. Today I became a man. Muscles relax and my feet plant firmly. Remember to breathe, Coene.

    Armed with such passive masculinity I could write a mountain. No cutesy shit. Just a big fucking mountain. I don’t need any tools, I’ll write with my blood. I can really feel my blood today.

    My girlfriend is a madwoman because she stays with me and I am an asshole. My dog is licking my hand; it’s disgusting and endearing. Outside some children are screaming at a sprinkler. They’re screaming at it but they are joyous. This is nonsense but they haven’t figured that out yet. I consider ordering a pizza. I probably will because I never consider pizza and then consider other things after it.

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