| Four bottles of acrylic paint. One slab of clay. One ball stylus. One pretty nifty experiment outcome. |


Leaving Mei Leaving Mei.Leaving Mei by ~tigriscaesius
A few days ago I received a letter from my mother in her typical style: always short, always unsigned. I knew it was her by the practiced handwriting and the return address of 16 Han, up the road. We hadn't talked in months, so I knew guilt had gotten the better of her. Of course, my mother had always been the sort to graciously share her misery, so there was no great leap in logic to assuming the idea was to guilt me into coming home. This was our game.
I'm dying. Bring packing paper, read her unmistakable, immaculate strokes on a rectangle of uncreased card stock.
She was lying, of course. She had to be. But she knew I'd com


eraser rubber,eraser by ~multicolored
I could twist you
a little bit.
and you wouldn't break.
(unless I twisted you
harder.)
I could have chosen to
erase the details;
but how could I be
modest
when
I could just
erase
the whole picture.
gone did go,
the whole picture.
and then like
a miracle
gone did go
the anvil.
gone did go
the anvil
gone did go
the pain the sorrow
gone did go
the regret the hesitation
gone did go
gone did go
left behind only
shredded blackened
scraps
of you
gone did go
scraps
of you
gone did go
when I was done I just
carelessly
swiped you away
gone did go
I started anew
a new picture
and
the palm of my
lef