The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf

The past.

Scrubbles

Scrubbles The things that back me are bulbous, the elder trees by the metro line the berries broken like a black bracelet, ants inside the door, each with their boots on,

I poo clouds

I poo clouds A milk bottle bubble of anxiety flobs up and makes fret with my solar plexus, my fingers on the desk horse cluck at the umbilical cord taught across the country.

Enter

maybe I was there.

The worst witch

The worst witch I lay backwards on the sofa and you like a bracket braced me. I stripped off the afghan slipper socks, dammed my lips to stop the tea you dripped
Cherry

Conservatory

I've worked a long time on this story - perhaps too long. I'm still not sure it's right. But it's the best I can do with it. 3,700 words (maybe that's it... it's too long!)

Larkin, left us a curse

Your right I know, In what you said.

She Is

She is the sky. She could be a bird, she could soar so high. She is the sun. She could be the moon. She could be the stars. She is freedom. She has no limits,

Project on Meditation - Day 1

Project on meditation is an experiment to find what you goanna dream

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