you could call…

Written by Ivan de Monbrison
Art by Tim Grundtner


The dog eats his hand,
one finger after the other.
The fingers on his stomach turn into snakes,
they come out of it and take the form of my father.
You died long ago, I couldn’t sleep on the last day because of you,
because I can’t sleep anymore,
when the lamp next to my bed is on.

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