An atychiphobic epistemophile. |
I.
Two women leaning their...
Hurry up.
They're here...
This isn't a painting.
Don't prance around with...
Under that white skirt and
light smirk...
The massacre was committed too early this morning,
maybe at 3am...
Two days before the moving day,
I found a videotape left among other things...
No more
rationalization...
Our dinner table has deep dishes
brimmed with poison and words and...
repeat it
until you believe it...
The ground is shaking.
You’re holding up the wall...
- Mom, do rich people die like us? |
Sometimes, I can't tell whether it is my weak will, or your strong perfume. |