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kin-dread
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anonface the ridge is sprinting again,
bragging like it won a medal
for outrunning its own shadow—
honestly, good for it.
crack‑snap—whoosh.
it likes to make an entrance.
meanwhile the ice is lying there
like a crime scene
that forgot to be tragic,
whistling a tune i swear i’ve heard
in a supermarket.
“don’t look at me,” it mutters,
which is rude, but fair.
naked, dressed—
i’m supposed to care, right?
i’m supposed to decode the riddle
like a polite little poet
who never kicks the furniture.
but kin‑dread hits sideways:
suddenly i’m remembering
the wrong childhood,
the one where the animals
kept borrowing my name
and returning it dented.
a neon billboard flickers behind the ridge—
BREAKING: DREAD DECLARES WAR ON KIN
then vanishes like it never happened.
anyway—
one of them is shimmering
like a disco ball with trust issues,
the other is bare as a dare
and twice as smug.
“behave,” i tell them.
the ridge snorts.
the ice rolls its entire horizon.
i laugh louder.
the weather joins in.
the ice pretends it didn’t.
kinship is a joke tonight,
and dread is the punchline
that arrives wearing someone else’s coat
and jingling the keys
to a life i don’t remember losing.
.
