and the inkling to put reliance within the black walls of words when miserable actions had fallen to shreds before the peeled back eyelids was so strong that all caution was thrown into the pile of things that made us feel caustic- the shrieking tea kettle, the braking taxi- this is you being impotent. i shall grow my hands back and cast you from me as a filthy vaseline covered object. for i am of fury.