Pomegranate thoughts drip from my mouth to the ears of a provolone-ly moon-faced man with gaping wisdom-tooth-sized-cavities with roots deep in impracticalities.

Like: the inevitable nature of  sleep and dreams, my pillow sours. A flushed cheek turns cool wondering at the thing, the monster lurking near the drinking glass… a tinge of a dream that singed a lash as it fluttered fully open.


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 619 other followers

%d bloggers like this: