The Voicemail
Forever now. Somehow that made it matter less.
Forever now. Somehow that made it matter less.
Mirror. Signal. Breathe.
Between panes of glass, choice slips away.
Every shot taken draws the forest closer.
“Why are you late?”
“Two guys walk into a bar; the third one ducks.”
I can’t find the time to write.
Doug leans back in his Lazyboy and stretches his arms over his head with laced fingers.
I relish the fine minutia of perfection.
Mary had a disgruntled little lamb, Whose fleece was greasy and matted And everywhere that Mary went, It rudely belched and farted.
Benny walked into my cubicle and his smile vanished. However, my own grin widened. This gag would play out perfectly. My papers were all laid out and askew t...
“Something green.”