talk show generics -ii

He was demure in between binges. She was the polliwog in his flying fish fry, hiding under the curtain in the fringes. They were mutuals who secretly willed a corruption, playing hide-n-seek in a hobby lobby of manipulations. She got busy with telemarketers on the home line, keeping them guessing in a cold steep run up of daytime, followed by the evening news, the blackouts and hysterics. The whole enchilada was ready made for talk show generics. Not her. People like her.

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swallow

Some kinda store. Little Bit took off as much as she could chew. What was her purpose so to do. The red book back was broken and quite mostly paper-maiche. In look, not essence. Essentially a book and no longer readable. Tragic, were it not for the hope of recyclables. Postconsumer waste repurposed, like even after she got through mashin’ the shit out of it, too! Who? Little Bit, pumpkin shopping in September, true true.

faux

faux froid

La Verite was nowhere to be found. Faux Froid took over the town. A chill cast over the roads – trees – dirt – homes – faces – ankles – toes. Toenails soft as reflections bent around the way, only to be bent back around. Compensation had long ago — long long ago, you know — fled the sapling exchange-post.

say hello 2 autumn

I wish I could take your loneliness and fill it up with non-threatening things will never leave you. I could be boredom and light a match inside your skull, we could watch shadows play on the wall. I wish the summer was over, too. One of my wishes came true. Say hello to autumn ’cause it’s fall.

makin shadows – by katya

giant

One of the giants of industry had trouble at home. his wife would not speak to him and his kids ran away. he was a god at work, and very alone. he would scream early mornings in the elevator and rising. then, self forgotten, go calmly about his business. he didn’t even realize his secretary wanted to sleep with him.

concert by k