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Lips dipped in sadistic irony state you feel fine. You cradle your backbone, bladder, and head, stumbling gracelessly towards exodus, platter in hand...

The carpet takes me razor fast into today: a removal. Then tommorow: howling, more of the same deliriousness (expect sweet post-partum depression...

oh yeah, this patheticized injury is real. i feel sick. do not remind me of humidity or of entrapment; this shock cuts deeper than seventeen ugly...

I forgot briefly how awkward I am. I really am thin and round-shouldered, preen and impish. I am still egotistical, hinting in lecture at beautiful...