Internally Godzilla is welcomed. I hope for something large and brooding to be fearful of. Instead my tongue swells with grief while the sunlight wrinkles my skin. Time decays waiting for a silver cumulus to let go of the shoe and I squeeze out all of my tears until I have nothing left for the rain. What will I do when my body disagrees? I’d rather choke on the dust that I leave behind than the dust that I gathered while I was here. This peculiar illusion of control corners me like a beast at feeding time. You would think by now I’d have learned enough to bathe in the sunlight instead of the blood but this slaughter is all that I know. I cashier myself until my shoulders curve raw underneath the flag of my own war.