Of so much we are in need. Convenience store prayer candles can’t help. A supply chain shortage of zip-ties has delayed crucial advances in knot theory. The Boy Scouts don’t know any different, but the alternate reality where they do – it’s enough to make a grown man cry. Since any 2D projection distorts a 3D reality, all my words for wormhole are wrong. A backlog at the tadpole hatchery means our frog leg shipment is running late. Tell my boss to talk someone else’s ear off on dismemberment. I’ve spreadsheets to manage. I’ve a rash that spells out lines of Rimbaud. I speak no French. I speak of myself when I’m nervous. I made a betta fish fight its own reflection. It made me angry and break all the mirrors in PetCo. In the parkade I erase known language with Spaghetti-Os. Developers raze pyramids for the blank space to build bank towers. The city of our suffering is so new that no one is a citizen yet. Would you like to apply for a credit card? Enter my interior design and witness the Trochilidae society eking out life on naught but Sprite and fluorescent light. No inflorescence where we’re headed. Amen.