Held tight during the week, clouds now cast off their burden, flinging down a drag-net of sleet.

Miss pink and blue, in a pink coat and olive drab cargo pants chain-smoking cigarettes and drinking Starbucks coffee non-stop hand shaking as she drinks from her cup

I murdered my inner child/ at 7 and neither denied/ nor confessed the act until now.

Who are these people in my dreams? I want to know. Get out of my dreams. Free up some space in there. Go haunt someone else. Get a job that means something. Sigmund says Go home!

A sense of yellow light saturates the night, which is luminous and green. Groups of figures stand out darkly, the light coming from behind them, mingling in that loose, timid way of all groups, hesitant, unsure, with their backs against the night. For survival, for grace,…

What could be better than a BJ?

How wonderful to grow up in a rose bush / to practice the taming of thorns daily.