Hey! and I have bones too.


Late at night with the dimly lit rooms, or during my favorite part of the day (when the light is still light enough to see, but luminescent light is brighter) (when it's blue out and the flamed end of cigarettes are the lighthouse of the street walker) (when it's dark gray out and lightning bugs light up nothing, but everything)we begin to chase away the grinding of the bones in "useful" ways. What amount of distraction can cull the blues out of our bones? Basically it seems like the drive to do this will never end. And, Hey! I have bones too.

Out of all the things we make out of our bones, bread is the most useful. Giants first gave us this idea. Giants called out to us in a threatening manner and said: "You down there. Yes, you...you with the bones surrounded by the flesh. I'll grind your bones to make my bread." We thought it a threat, but what we thought was threat was really feat.

We grind them down to a pulp. We grind them down to a pulp we mix into a glue slurry and make them into weapons. We're throwing darts at our pain, mostly. Hoping to hit that bulls eye, hoping one of our sharpened tools will stick to the spot we need it most. Hey! and I have bones too. I grind them down, and offer them up to you.