Crackling flames crinkle the cold air in the woods outside my memories. Why run when the river can carry you smoothly to a symphonic sea? This fire’s name is Aurora, and she is melting the guns my father taught me to grow. The blasts pop like candy in the mouth. X rays blast through my holographic skull, revealing dancing neurons. The sinewy little sluts grind on while my memories collapse like the furniture I tried to put together, too female for the hammer. Familiar only with the nail.
Day: January 28, 2025
Obliterated Tuesdays
Obliterated Tuesdays jackhammer the week. What slovenly hills must I climb to catharsis today? The weeks mail themselves to my lover, and he sews them in his coat. He’s freezing, I’m burning. My bikini is tight. My job is to shovel wishes off the beaches of my mind and into the wallets of my enemies. Love grows along the fences in this town like ivy, tearing it down in elegant slow motion. My week dines on dinosaurs and government evasion. Armies convene in my blood to fight the hordes of daily tasks. Wednesday waits around the corner, sucking on candy cigarettes and wearing a black leather jacket emblazoned with the word, “Hope.”
Friendliness
Hi neighbor! I say as though I’m not bare naked and watching poisonous frogs copulate in my yard. It’s nice weather we’re having. The balmy air and sweating clouds came to tea and I served them with the lilac china my ghosts love so well. Friendliness is next to godliness. That’s what they say, right? My eyes have lost patience with waiting. They dart into a wise old fox’s den.
Miniature Moon 