rugged hands

memory is a fickle siren's song I didn't understand.

the flutter of her eyelashes helped to clear the tension

She coughs, spits, lights another cigarette with a book of soggy matches. Clenching the cigarette firmly between her teeth, she picks up the mangled Barbie dolls stuck in the soil. Smooshing their heads together, she makes them kiss. The frail girl leans in close with her cigarette until the heat from the end of it starts to melt the plastic faces of the Barbies, warping them into drippy, elongated knots.- Bunny Gloves

"When I was young my parents told me that if I could sprinkle salt on a bunny rabbit's tail he would let me catch him. It never happened."

black wave

a splash of caffeine and some good ol' nicotine.

taste the sounds.

lies of the beholder.