The error of my being

 In the error of my being enveloped in your breasts, I wake to protest my flailing love for women and women-like things Floating within your peripatetic mind to find you searching for a morsel of pain, the kind that debilitates your sorrows away sometimes I regret,  having asked you to wait, for me and myself,… Continue reading The error of my being


There are bills piling up, in a desk drawer that only opens from the inside a stuff of adult nightmares seeped into our psyche like a weekly newsletter you don't remember having subscribed to but don't unsubscribe for fear of missing out we are here, and only here waiting for a miracle licking the envelopes… Continue reading Bills