hexafractal spermwhales

two minutes into the future a bomb goes off south of tel aviv in a market square at the break of dawn and children scream for their parents and the fathers beg and pray and bargain for their daughters to be safe while half way across creation a mother drowns her son in the frigid cuyahoga. her prints are latent and the smell of christmas is fresh in the air. newspapers scoop it up like dogshit while the priest puts the silent to rest. five minutes ago a young child loves his neighbor in the vein of every television show he's ever saw. a dispicable act is concieved and carried out and the paper beneath his dresser describes it as "holy" and "destined". in a day or two it all blows over but the tastes still swim in the synapses. my mother said once that the truth is the only thing that will set you free but i think it was all bull shit because i heard that, years later, in a rundown movie theater.