I kill the locked wide. The locked wide tells the truth and the truth does not travel. I am not a villain. I keep her mouth. I lose the cake-air. I lose the almost-look between her and the man in the coat because that look is a paragraph and I have seconds. I am not a villain. I am not a villain. I am how a room becomes a pocket. She will hate me for the crop. She already hates me for existing in the doorway with a timeline. I am not a villain. Thumb over post. I know what I have removed. Removal is the job. Consent is a luxury the chorus does not ask for when it wants to live on a bus. Removal is the job. Removal is the job. Removal is the job. I am not a villain.
