When forced to choose between certain disembowelment by a ravenous Minotaur
1. we, clouded with error create from the language of breath an earth, murked without wisdom but the reaching of so many hands
a shooting star flew over our heads today. did you know it’s not actually a star? it’s a meteoroid burning red white blue like
Alcohol Virgin Philosopher Kings club meeting, 7:30 sharp with homework and unsettled melodic war, all cacophonous in the background and you’ll wish you were
Your foot first descends like a butterfly in the desert. You want to be sand.
Thin trees rise from the thick texture of the saw palmettos’ sharp green leaves.