“I want to see this whole goddamned city, this city that you purchased with our misery, burned. I want to see you hanged on the very gallows that you use to hang men for crimes far slighter than this. I want to see that noose around your neck and I want to pull that fucking lever with my own two hands!”
When first lifted to the breast after being pushed out into existence, he bit his mother’s nipple in his eagerness to partake in a world he did not yet know. Florence Hamilton gasped and bit her tongue and hoped that he would be a more docile child once he had had his fill. The doctor advised removing the teeth, since the gums were not developed enough to hold them, and he might choke on them should they loosen.
Alfred Hamilton thumbed at his newborn son’s cheek, inspecting his heir. Thomas grasped his finger with determined, pudgy hands and pulled it into his mouth to nip at it.
“Already biting the hand that feeds you, aren’t you?“ His father handed Thomas back to his mother, whose breasts were aching and heavy because Florence was afraid to give them to her son again.
me, trying to go to sleep: dont think about black sails. think about something light
my brain: all this will be for nothing, we will have been for nothing. defined by their histories, distorted to fit into their narrative, until all that is left of us are the monsters in the stories they tell their children
me, wide awake: j a m e s f l i n t i s s o i m p o r t a n t
Meg's Mumbles 