Pick Your Spot

Shall it be a far-off meadow, beside a lonely shade tree, as your fingers claw your anguish into the dirt and your thin, choked cries of despair are met with the songs of disinterested birds? Would you be inclined to distantly, dispassionately observe the progress of a solitary ant across your forearm as I do things to your body that will cleave it from its senses?… Read the rest “Pick Your Spot”