it hits you funny, sometimes, death, like a sledgehammer made out of putty wielded by a midget with spasticity as a surgeon would wield a knife I was at an auction rural type lots of welders and big implements for fixing combines or tractors mixed in with delicate china I love the smells of old […]
Salt taste, rippling across my tongue, rolling black pebbles bursting at the edge symbolic life to slake my thirsty palette long draughts of femininity at it’s source reduced to here and now encased in the soft tang slipped between my lips and then the cracker, bitten… hard! ©2000
running away from what I never knew the boogie man under the stairs or perhaps just another under cooked pizza no anchovies please or no I passed a mirror and… ran… away… again mwl’18
