Sep 21, 2020
On the Sixth Day
The oregano crossed the street.
One by one I let in soggy, limp-haired, neutral-toned people and for a matter of minutes I am just standing there like a royal guard or a well-trained Golden Retriever.
This shit is not the spirit of anything. I swallow and it feels like there’s a potato chip stuck in my throat. Can we drop this?
This mess has teeth and you’re too wide awake and alive and broke and out so he says he could do half now, half when you get paid Friday, if that works
You'll lose points for unnecessary use of the word blase despite posing for the underground paparazzi.
I'd slide the switchblade he kept underneath his pillow for protection out once he began to drift off.
