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Kt
How wonderful it would be if a portion of my brain continued to color, writing bright spaces into mundanity, even as I apologize for being out of milk. But milk is so boring and lacking in juice for insight. Maybe that's why I've written today. We are familiar now,(more)
triplemcslice
The slow venom began its work in Jerome at his own mother's breast, when as a babe of eleven months he suckled too desperately and drew blood. The woman moaned, wearing a furious face, and ungently deposited him on the cluttered changing table. She swore Jerome would get the(more)