- Vol. 03
- Chapter 06
my father slammed the door with a tumultuous slap.
as a drunkard, he often comes home late in the night dancing logo ligi to the tots of alomo bitters in his veins:
his eyes, red-shot his fist, a piercing knife his head, a house of arcane madness.
the walls of the bedroom sweated with fear as he charged onto the body of my mother.
the night grew into a devastating monster as mother's face bawled with dripping blood.
silence thwacked mother's lips, as the night wept —
she grabbed my arm, escaped through the door & headed to the grotto Fr Bobby built in 1990.