Gabriel Garcia Marquez once described Columbian villagers who dug up their dead ancestors in the cemetery and carried them to wherever they went to next. What is the purpose of burying your dead if you don’t leave them to rest? What is the purpose of grief if you carry it with you forever anyway? The villagers didn’t know where they’d go next, so they carried the corpses with them.

I feel and smell my ancestors on my back. I smell an Irish cargo. Canadian cargo. My grandparents. Czech cargo. I smell a little Scottish cargo and Bohemian cargo. But I also smell the cargo of my friends and their dead. Deoderant is popular but ineffective. “Someone had to tell you it’s not working…” Fashion is marketing of fabric to cover up the smell. I love how we are weighted down with good weight, bad weight, any weight. You can’t cover it up.

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Walk backwards Unkeurig ungift unlaugh unlonely unkiss undoorbell unring unlook uncheap vaporizer unbroken unwhat went unsaid unjulian schabel’s house unbirthday undiabeacon unthe Revenant unwoodstock unnew years unstormking unshit sheets unjoke unwish unhope

unRick and Morty unsentimental

Unbeer unbeefstew

Unthink unspoke unthe Martian unCrimson Peak unDeadpool un13 Cloverfield Lane unPSL jokes ungingerbread unrasberries in bed unfried lemons

Unnervous

Unswipe

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Each night my body dreams me back into a full balloon

A day deflates it

With a face, a happiness in shattering scenes, can appear any moment

My lungs empty

And fill again

You’re always either inside of a building or outside of a building

The air will always change

Bringing oxygen into the body                      

and removing carbon dioxide