The blood on my teeth begins to taste like a poem, like religion, like the way you look at me.

Sean Glatch, Caffeine Pt. 1, 4:41

ACT I: the boy who was a gun

Monsters are always hungry, darling, and they're only a few steps behind you, finding the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren't stitched up quite right, the place they could almost slip right into through if the skin wasn't trying to keep them out, to keep them here, on the other side of the theater where the curtain keeps rising.

Richard Siken, Crush