Ejection Seat

Reprisal: Against red pain. The color of a fluorescent sign building tight veins in the corner, like your eye that time.

Like the: There are chunks of potato in your downstairs toilet. And beets. Seasonal vegetables. Blood spreads like a new flower denied CO2 and forced into the two dimensional layer of bowl water, rivulets blooming out death on white porcelain.

Flush: Return with smile and acidic taste in mouth, but brushing teeth and one organ less a human being again this time.

"We'll talk later, or will you call again?"

Nah. It's not me, it's you. Enjoy your seat belt. I wasn't tied up.