White, wilted, silty, and salty, forgetfulness washes over me like sand carried by the tide. In my head the whirring of a scarred conscience. In my eyes, festering wounds of imperfection. I have electrocuted myself 15 times and died each time. The body may die once, but identity dies little by little as memory fades. Still, my sweeter half carries me onto the nefarious beach. He opens his mouth and pours purpose into me.
Miniature Moon 