Bibamus, Moriendum Est
“Rage.”
“What?”
“Love them. Fucking Tom Morello man.”
The Room Between Dreams / Ringing the Bell
Abner awoke from a wonderful dream.
Under the Saturnine Influence on the Trail
A cult got to us, an invented religion hewn from the hunt and from the gape of a country so impressive it seeped into our souls.
GOOD BOY, NOW SIT / GOOD BOY 2: THE HAND OF GOD
I was imagining being walked naked on my hands and knees like a dog on a leash through the town square when the mayor walked up to me.
Bite the hand that feeds you
I was born in a hole, a metaphorical one fortunately.
The Man Who Took Leave of His Wife
The man took leave of his wife, who was busy rolling large balls of lint into an even larger ball of lint from which she would, come wintertime, pull handfuls of lint to use as tinder in the fireplace, and then he set out on his way.
Evolution
I came to the nudist hotel wearing red bathing trunks.
To The Writer That Asked Me To Go To AA
The coffee is just as bad as everyone
said it would be.
When the Walls Come Falling Down
Swish…….Swish……..Swish
Getting Off
Mallory’s ability to be a productive member of society ended at precisely 1:37 PM Eastern one summer Wednesday when the boy she’d been seeing/obsessing over for about three weeks made it clear via text message that he wasn’t looking for a relationship.