Automatic Writing #3
Why then six sick sink hole sized faces in the night do we the undersigned under sighs of silent night tears- tear apart this wretched soulless soul until tills ring… Read More »Automatic Writing #3
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Automatic Writing #3
Hide in the bark the forgotten winder spun the free song to the tired goats on the porridge farm. Hark so low the bottom of the fish was not where… Read More »Automatic Writing #3
Automatic Writing #2
Longform sleep settles the frosted windows of trident
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DAY 20 – 30 Day Writing Challenge
But you are like a bolt out of the blue. The sparkle on the edge of a star. Everything has meaning and everything is full. Not just half full. No short measured optimism. The glass is full.