Dawn outside his chambers disintegrates, retreats, Anxious, breath unwholesome, like the stricken man.
I hadn’t been able to read it in the darkness of the hall. The train was late, all the blueness was becoming gold.
Ladies, this license plate is your journal, an everlasting ticket up a Northern route where you’ll still have access to electroshock therapy through some faux forest in the middle of the US.
Where the way this combo tongue and squeeze the air tells me it’s John C’s b’day-O yes; he had a nice place on Long Island
About a third space, a place of a community and a place of solitude.
Past the stone angel heads and over the calm brutes, the freeway thins and wears white like a patient tonight.
a wayward protein bloodletting from unforeseen orifice gathers us to elongated grass-fed hours
TENDER DATA .Inquiries feel like enemas What is it called when your fist blooms inside someone The civilization I live in has lost its purpose so I turn to amateur