Writing

Dreams suck the measly essence, leeching away thin blood, a swallowy music’s sugared catch, authentic…

What was once beautiful to gaze upon has been punched so silly that the gloves…

Only slightly different phrasing from that cartooned or captioned on shards and collectible fragments, the…

Belle’s mortal throes, limping into Rochecorbon to a deathbed of roses. Cocteau’s received stigmata perceived…

Her book of golden days, blue hours, and rose (uncounted) minutes. Rushes peeled in freezing…

I Hobbles and lockets I knew nothing of. Covered with fleas and yet a faint…

That Mary was gone and would not be back was not the point of greatest…

Mary’s watery demise was the beginning of a lunar cycle that set the occult tribes…

He was not there, but this is how it happened. After a last look around,…

After the breakup of the Billets Doux Mary was not seen for a while. When…