TABLE OF CONTENTS

A father’s gifts can’t make up for his neglect.

When meeting death, there is first a moment of confusion—a space in-between where ghosts wander—wonder—until they do not. Guilt is a fickle thing—forgetting is even

On foreign land, memories of you slowly fade, but the dolls still stay,
their eyes rolling to the back of their heads, refusing to watch you leave.

By the time she started her job at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute, Rachel had seen countless fish born. Nothing she’d seen was like what came out of the giant egg case in the saltwater tank.

Around me is complete chaos. The soldiers open fire, bullets everywhere. They’re better armed, but we’re out of our fucking minds.

Concerns are being raised over the new treaty between Russia and North Korea…

She relinquished her control
Into my steady hands, the untamed part
Of her that had split open throats
And hearts through heaviest of armors.

Hello, I’m Paul, and I’ve died 62 times. But don’t worry. This isn’t going to be one of those sad stories about dying. That’s not my story, at least.