This is the third chapter in Smith's calamity. If you feel you have stumbled upon this page by accident, stay calm, and hit the back button very slowly...
This is the second chapter of the misanthropic adventures of a junkie named Smith (now reread that five times fast), titled: "Naked Hysteria in a Cum Lacquered Cell". If you haven't already read the first chapter, you can find it on my blog titled: "Sick and Longing for a Walgreen's Bathroom". DISCLAIMER: NOT FOR CHILDREN … Continue reading Naked Hysteria in a Cum Lacquered Cell
I remember the sun- its light of a thousand moments, all vying for their fifteen minutes. Scratching at the sorrow of another yesterday while shivering up to a dumpster- society’s leftovers; served up on a concrete platter. I remember her eyes. Electric spheres of blue rising over an imperfect smile- the smoking gun clenched … Continue reading Memories of the Son
Hard, reaching fingers Scraping your surface- combing For lost granules ----Jonathan Renfield
What is happiness worth to one who only sees the subtle derision in every smile? Or in life- quick stolen moments, dulled by an artificial glow. What a brilliant play life sometimes dreams, in which the burden of being can be satiated with epiphanic measures- like plucking a single photon from the sunset. But here you are deceived- full … Continue reading Fickle