a swimming ceiling can distract one
from the task at hand. or foot.
but then it's the floor that moves.
fake names feel better. blame a divorce.
no one knows you at this bar.
wicked the way that works. but hey,
you asked for it. the bartender knows
no names. she's not meant to. you
hear it all and keep trying to forget.
the night rolls on. it always does.
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...