pls dont be offended by cursing

ruckus fuck us / we can’t breathe in this part of the world anymore / josh quit fucking around with that knife, 7 years old, shaven head, fucking knows taxidermy better than the butcher next door / ‘and can you tell us why you joined them?’ / purpose—son, look at me, where are you right now? / he wanted to tell father peters that he was somewhere nobody could touch him, the world pushed him in the same direction as the wind, and down he went past alleyways with cigarette butts and dirty shoes, but in them smiles brightened up the dirty sides of the building / ‘i think I wanna be some ivy when i grow up, i want to stick to a house, and make it a home, by myself, / every time his mother left him out front, he’d go inside the lobby and listen to the phone calls on the other end of the line / ‘pretty boy, won’t you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you, before I let it ruin me tonight..’ ‘damn those lyrics are sick as fuck, ’ and he hoped they didn’t hear him breathing, the lobby felt suffocating, and his asthma was especially bad that year / hold me by the shoulders / falling slowly like snow, but nobody expected carson to pack up like that, he fell in with the roofs of houses, on mother’s fucking their mail boys, when it was still roulette in the household and brother would hide his powders under the floorboard in the closet, like dad with that damned gun, every night in the garage with the same target, his younger brother—/ 'i think uncle scott’s on the line / and it ended like it began, they were all in one place, a house, some paint on the walls, a room of everyone’s own, no tears, no emotions, just the game that was played and the sudden bluff of each of them, let out like a siren across the hallway, 6:00 PM David pronounced dead by cardiac arrest / shit shit shit this is utter shit / :—(