"what are we supposed to do?" "about the death?" "about the unbearable hate? where do we even begin?" "I know, this is really bad, three in one week." "it's not even a record."
It was frightening at first how during the days after the final blow of marbles to the slow settling dust of her great orbiting satelite body, it didn't feel so much that she was slowly moving outward, as much as it stemmed from his gut that maybe he was the one softly fading with time, … Continue reading Moon (Fraction)
"These days I'm full of alcohol's remnant, not the burn after gulp or the oil in the stomach, no not the hair rooted in the curves of the brain, not the slow peach fuzz around the iris that ties shoe laces in double knots, sends me tripping through smooth space into the darkened stupor of … Continue reading Alcohol’s Remnant