what’s this for?
Hell Bitch?
Fucking Hell Bitch.

sweet Sunday evening
the road became an
aquarium for the fish
of tomorrow

outlook bleek.
Cower!  Retreat!
He’s coming and his
word can melt your
heart but not in a
good way.
The way hot iron meets butter.

the worse is his
tiny beaty eyes
rolling through a
SOUNDSCAPE
We touched and we
ran.