Seances where ouija boards are drenched in wine and bread
laughing at the savage masks we wore upon our heads
Rage is paid for in advance it paves the weary road
where we walk across it with regret, our steady steady load.
-
Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
-
"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...