For him, the matter is purely academic

Well, one thing stays true: I know how to keep my mouth shut about what will drive you crazy. Better just to keep seeing shapes in the darkness. Preying for ghosts, ignoring the salient truths in favor of what is obscured by dust and graveyard dirt. I will add an h to everything, a friend told me it's feminizing. So Hush. Hash. Harold. Howard. Hannah became Annah. At least that's what I say I am doing.

If you were interested, I would give you a peek. Nothing is ripping, just stretching, a woman giving way to life. Whether the baby cries, whether you smack its blue-flesh ass now or later, is not for me to say. I'm in my haze. I can't feel anything above my waist. I can say I'd fuck you in your full-body cast, sad winds blowing my hair and well, maybe the moisture out of your two blinking eyes. The only part of you that moves. Doesn't matter. You cast your spell with those eyes.

And you come in dreams, some whip-carrying master, a rent uncollected. A large dog who won't show all his teeth unless you come close enough for him to strike. Can't pay in blood or love, no matter how often I offered or how good I proved the offer, I showed you such collateral as to bankroll another Fort Knox. You tremble and touch someone else's hair, yet I see it's to the rhythm of these bigger lies I tell. You shake because I frighten you with my youth. It's terrible. I'm sorry I broke you so throughly, but then, of course, you were the one with those eyes.