𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧.

can we love nature for what it really is﹕ predatory ?

and he’s spying through the window .

an open mouth is a hole so . . .

if you have a hole then he’ll fill it.

a large hand shoves down the back of seven’s pants, threatening to rip them as he grabs hold of one his cheeks. thumb rubbing between them, teasing his hole. “i don’t know, son . . . i think you need to give me something to be proud of. can you do that?”

leaning forward to kiss his forehead, playing into the patriarchal role. his free hand falls to the small of seven’s back, pushing under his waistband. “hey kiddo.”

pointing to it.

come talk it through with your old man.

— starting to look like your dad.

hey, baby.

THERE'S NO DISCHARGE IN THE WAR.

⠀ still got a winter coat. ⠀

and