the slip of skin on skin
as pillows lump and sheets tangle
at night, a forest grows
green leaves twine around us
who lie like tangled ruins
hearts beating still
with the rhythm of the night
which sings of secret things
blooming scarlet and gold
beneath a cold moon
chim-chimeny, chim-chimeny, chim-chim-cheroo you elected a fascist, let’s see what he’ll do... chim-chimeny, chim-chimeny, chim-chim-che...
Warning: Long, rambling, poorly-edited glimpse into the opium den that is my mind follows... I was pondering Baba Yaga, and went down ...
I went hiking with some people who were all more of the doing type, while I am only, or mostly, a being type. Partway through our planned...
As an introvert, one is used to feeling slightly out of step with most other humans. My dislike of using the phone for anything but texts is...