A koi fish came and told me of the passed down legacy

Of broken jaw,

tight grip ringing on my fists.

Warm ears and blinded action that shoot through my veins up to my temple.

The koi remind me of my father.

A small difference between the seed and the shaft,

the koi tells me that I have “it” as well.

Blurbing small speeches, they show me my thoughts and the wire that separates me from the man.

The coarse pube like thread now and then snaps, until the heat travels back down into my own fingertips.

How has this happened?

how have I inherited the small clumped fists and irrational heat?

I have morphed into the one thing that all children promise not to.

Bubbling air bubbles to the surface, it slowly, day by day becomes more present.

Is this how my father felt it?

A kafka like metamorphoses?

A slow tectonic shift?

An increase of hazey eruption, that unleashes on the smallest of people.

The koi, that day, were a sexless oracle, framed in a picture that reminded me of my father.

Separation does nothing when we talk about anger.

Cause It lies beneath my pores, ferments into a beautiful little mound

and never has the chance of breathing.