Witching Hour
indifference is the coldest knife flays in bloodless cuts long to be impaled …but it chills your guts
Pieces
The Deep
To write in the old way… Sleep, dream write what you weep dream, seem be in the deep The kosmos is seething with sentience. We used to know this, when we climbed out of and into the trees. The shaman knew this, when he reached down into the soul. When we slept in the deep, …
In a Jar / In Her Bed
She couldn’t have plucked out my heart with a forceps, sectioned it with a razor, and filed it with her specimens, unless she had reduced it to something tangible in the first place.
Pulse
“Look at them. If they even knew what goes on in the basements of stores closed for the night, or the stairwells of parking garages, or in the privacy of many respectable estates, they would have to look at the world differently, have to consider their lives of network TV, dinner buffets, trips to the …
Dropping FAE
Down… coming down fragments hit ground and aerosol fills the dome the center lights the gas at mach six the wave expands and all implodes crushed by giant hands dust fine as glass a whole fucking town And those on the edge eardrums split eyes explode organs collapse and God help you if you’re old …