across the way is off for the duration, but there was no finale — a soul is prone to lintballing — cotton-haired mama steering a yacht during a Sunday tipover
it’s silky wet with a blend of steam on the mirror where her lips rest dreaming in cloudy matrimony atop a devastating layer of shellac
we spoke of piercings, and she suddenly hoisted her ivory blouse to show me the sapphire stud in her navel she was emotionally detached from her puffy tits, although they protruded like buoys from her neckline
Dozing in the basement after a row of Oreos. Comatose over sociology book. A nap during college homework. — Guy at library brought his life with him in two bags. He slept with his letters and was a man of glass. — Naked after a shower, his penis was small. Standing alone, he feigned aContinue reading “Comatose and other snippets”
Much like me, the natural tendency of spaghetti is sticky when wet
Muffled-up Christ, the most extraordinary set of bones known to mankind. In him, you weigh the consequences of what’s real.
The “E” in her first name looks like a heart or a woman’s rear end or a man’s testacles. Her signature is phallic, tapering off into a squiggly line at the top of her “A” as if orgasmed.
Pictures of Ernestina in Buffalo warrant attention
Ornamental sky, ornamental slap you decorated my ass