domestic_disturbance lycanthrope So i file the report and my tears are kept in the bin, behind a stolen bicycle, or maybe it’s better kept than that, and i get to be amongst my own, disturbance of the tame the domestic the wild where it cannot be, simply cannot because someone would die. Would i need to stay with someone like that in a wild world? No, only a world where i have to take a number to cry. That kind of world i need the police’s protection just like i needed his. And maybe they’re nice, and maybe he was smug or maybe he was nice sometimes too, and maybe they’re smug. You can’t tell untill it’s too late to back out. I threw my back out. Lifting something i should never have to lift. A burden that didn’t start with me, or maybe not even with him but somewhere his father and his mother decided it was easier just to forget than to change. Practically the same. A bruise can be so many things after it’s happened. A bruise feels the same whether you remember falling or being hit. So where’s the lie? There is no lie. Only, it won’t happen again right? I’m on file now. Surely i can rest there, amongst the damp dark official stamps and folders and rest for a while, just a while. 020417 what's it to you? who go blather from