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Epic

Brandon Freels

Is there such a thing as explosive depression? A parade of pallbearers dressed as doctors march out of a mushroom cloud and into the den of a woman made of wolves. Together they place the egg yokes over our eyes. Together they slide the bacon back and forth between our tongues. People don’t know pain until they feel it. Is explosive depression like explosive diarrhea? Does it flush out the brain? I'm not worried. If people destroy anything, it’s usually themselves. At my funeral, I want a brass band to play Faith No More’s “Epic” down Saint Claude Ave. What is it? What does it matter? Once you cross the tracks, everything is reversed. Innies become outies. One cinder block is removed and a hand reaches through the wall. How can you be a healer if you’ve never experienced pain? Can you hear it? Can you feel it? Can you see it? A wizard wearing sunglasses watches my guts floating in the sky. Each day in Hell is like a bed frame collapsing beneath you. At home, blood is a natural band-aid, but here, no one tells you to smile. It’s not the smiling that makes you happy."|

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