Fantastic, frothy Fridays foam up at the edges of my life. I’m out for coffee with the Antagonist, and I hate coffee. I crave cold, curious Saturdays of discovery. I like to wander around the English language after dark and get mugged. An elegy broke my nose once. At dawn, the weekend will taste like candy. Sugar is true and lethal. I didn’t choose the thorn burrowing into my side, but I will die beside it.
Miniature Moon 