sweet silk clouds laugh at hijacked minds glass tanks – rice from air queens were passing in quilts waitress superpowers our disintegrated cup blood and switch – within corruption stranded speakers movements never there vacant suburbs from behind trees came custodians out of a lost illusion, mortal black they grow women in the money bed …
No. I haven’t done much writing in the past. So why I’m trying to do so now is, I guess, an attempt to challenge old habits. As well as, the threat of being terminally unemployed. I hope it’s not too terrible. That does not necessarily mean that this is an exercise in fiction. I’m gonna …
Continuing on, with further adventures in sound, fidelity, & fear. Godspeed to the offspring of the dawn of the empty canvas…EDUCATE YOUR PARENTS!! If there’s a means to walk on, with the axiom, that life IS an illusion, let us play, NOT pray. To pray, you are …
