My love of words is large and mean and my heart -it’s just a junkyard dog that growls at nothing and gnaws at old bones until they’re dust. I have become so much better since I’ve obtained a strong handle on the absurdity of myself but still there’s nothing easier than picking up a bottle […]
Doll faces with clipped wings waving dollar bills at the great dark inside. They see themselves in window shops. They sing the music store songs. With eyes as dead as used leather jackets they wander an infinity of well-lit oblivion.
Some people are such empty vessels that it fills me with pain until I look away.