Technology
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The Cigarette Lady
What is wrong with me, I wonder. There is this desert of thought. Dry sand blown by the wind tossed about all whimsical and deceitful. It moves like purple gravy in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. I think I may have forgotten how to write in cursive. No one uses it anymore. Everything is… Continue reading
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Midnight in March
I sometimes wonder about the blood on Mars and the indigo stilettos on the streets of New York. The ‘tack, tack, tack’ sound against the sidewalk beneath the bourbon leaves of an autumn day as I look out my open window encased in old world brown brick with crumbling mortar. I’ve been trying to rid… Continue reading
cereal after sex 