Laying bare me quill, he wound up and touched me again on the noggin with a cuticle. No sharp edge of a blade, just the soft, rounded push of a finger, a blunt reminder of the body behind the...

The world outside moves in blurs of heat waves but here, the air is chill in a cool corner as the plate arrives, of a simple, a simple rye bread with a pale, smooth spread of Benedictine and cucumber...

Like an abacus tallying crimes, counting steps to the gallows of insomnia listening to my breath exhale, memories I have slain,counting steps like a pendulum do, echoing the silence of the rain dripping through my mind's filter, unraveling before...