Bloodshot, Crow’s Feet, Fingernail Moons
I got sick at the campsite. Drew scooped it up with one hand and threw it in the fire before his dog could eat it. It made a hissing sound and sparks, my last memory that night. We tripped out on the...
View ArticleIn between the nether-lands of dreams
I enter the shop and trip a chime and it’s the same tone on my phone that wakes me: new message. I wrote this in my sleep. I’m walking down the row of cubes, at work, naked. There’s people in my cube:...
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