Tonight I'm going to sleep in fear & frustration, anxious over deaf heads packed with cotton, who confuse bravery with obstinance. I am an onion skin pulled by a dull knife through deepening layers that fall apart when sliced. My face slides across the computer screen, I feel its human warmth & my open eyes see you're a feed. The split hair of a country gone capital-digital, impossibly individual. I wanted to text you about this but it's too late. I wanted to call the pastor who studies evil. I wanted to connect to someone real like talk to my dad, to get those pics from some hookup, to just have a mind cradled in a deliberate body to hold & understand my intention. Tonight I need a communication free of persuasion or fear. The root of all evil is fear. The root of all fear is unknown, and those who refuse to know.