the lights popping back on as
you walk away in an empty
house, or the click of a door
while you lay in bed, knowing
where the keys are,
the only set. this is how you
go mad, I’ll bet. the mundane
betrays you before you go to
the bar. before the pink elephants ask
how you are.
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...