My still heart beating around my fixed gaze, mischievous imp mocks me, places a bow in my manikin hand and an arrow in my wooden fingers. His ruddy flesh fashions my limbs into a dangerous tension. In my disbelief I hear his flushed cheeks command: “Take her out!”
A small country ships the bulk of their export in one day to the US.
I’m stuck in prison. My country uses all their coniving to launch military resistance to get me out, sacrificing a whole years worth of export plus relations to the US for me.
What a beautiful corner of the universe I have here. No one take this corner away from me.
A Dracula is never a cure for a headache. At times, I need some beautiful soul to drive a wooden stake through my heart to get the point.
Oh, mama, you laugh at me too much with your knowing smile. What have I got myself into this time? Regard as little tears and snot rubbed all over my sleeve, as if the ripping of my subject from my little hand was all just a bad dream. With loving eyes you take me all in and send me out to recess again.
Nothing worthwhile ever gets done. When it’s finished, where’s the fun? For whom do you want to make this past? Aye, for them with whom we hope we’ll last.