Seraphim I’d like to see a leather-skinned carny take a swig from their whiskey bottle, undo the critical safety bolts, put the thing into overdrive, and step into the twirling monster hurling them up into the air over sawdust and lights and old-fashioned wonders, their broken body for all the world to see careening through metal, dirt, and bone, a perfect death rattle delivered to them by the machine they’ve been shuffling screaming children through for murderous years on the circuit day after unmarked day, now that’s a real close to the wire circus act not seen or heard of before or since