Relationships

Blunt Force Trauma

Just a stick in the mud. You struck me withthose careless wordsa little phrase it turned my head. I filed it till it became a bowlfit for blood, sweat and bitter tears. With those shavingsI stoked a fire whose flames smelled of cold cursed ambition….
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Honk at me

What solace is required to fly north and remain?These geese seem to know for their flights are never pained with silence whether in groups of two or of twelve.What does such clumsy honking call forththat silence cannot?Oh our fears of…
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