pounding on glass to break out to break in to beat her to beat him to beat them into a bloody mess of jealousy and rage and glass and skin. this is what she says to me, this is what makes me smile. we sit back and breathe, trying to control the situation. my brother says to me, you’ve been out in the rain too long and it’s getting to you, these grey skies are getting to you, you need to get of london, what about rome? i’ve roamed enough, i say, and take her hand and we walk off into torrents and downpours, into mass hysterical moments of naked aggression and sex in parks. this is what i am, she says to me. i reply, this is what i’ve become