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[audio:https://killauthor.com/audio/issuesixteen/camonghne_felix.mp3|titles=To Whom This May Concern|artists=Camonghne Felix]

This morning I took a bath under an open roof. Check it: me, dressed in an immature pond, looking up at the earth – but school taught me to look down on it, so now I know to ask permission. Earth? Sky? Why you be so glass hungry? Why you be so ready to big up everything? Some things don’t deserve cultivation – let’s keep our garden private, just you and me? I live next to a safe-house for the deaf. Last night the thunder came without the big light, I was scared for them – how they know when the rain is coming? I know. I always know. My body holds ninety-two percent of its own water. I stand in the middle of the street – I buoy. I make my mouth a trademark, I lighthouse, I scream “land”, I know bones all vibrate with me. You? You elite. You make me jealous. I don’t get jealous. I wear all the nice things and hide.