
Wait, take me with you. Please, wait, take me with you. A few capsules too many. Lingering lions, snickering just around the corner. Fireflies forests and late-June jubilee. Flashlights for rent: five dollars. Twiddling a semi-burnt-out cigarette between your fingertips. Another felinous evening. Reexamining velocity in a vacuum. Eighty-eight eight balls, all to my solitary self. A triad of timid, tired, tiny tabbycats curling up next to momma after a long day of play. I just cannot get enough of inhaling smog, I’ve even written it into my daily planner.
Choking up laughing, or crying; it’s cyclical, really. Three and a half jars of jazz jelly. A lonesome midnight beverage has become routine. Numerous nickel nanites marching along a moonlit riverside. Geiger geysers. I’ve stopped locking my gunsafe. Frequent indigo endeavors. Lemon liquor and festival flicker, bustling and buzzing. We are no longer sure what induces what. Dismal, dreary and down damsels. Afraid of the limelight; tuck yourself into a small box, and stop talking.







