(Art found on google)

The seizures came when he was alone. Like a wet dream. Among friends, family, at school or home, he was fine-normal as they say in the presence of an audience. Laughing, teasing, rough housing as the elders would say. Things boys do or did before being one and doing those things became toxic and illegal. He was the last example to survive. The twelve priors exploded and bled out. The stench never left, like your first heartbreak.

If a thought came that could offend for any reason, he seized. They programmed him to smile and look away shyly and avoid extended eye contact. They didn’t account for a poison, produced internally. Strong enough to build and destroy worlds. It was later named love. It has changed in modern times tho; now called going offline.


I write to breath. I write to give. I write for happiness.

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