Late August
The sky breathes ripped dark cloth,
presses the gravity column down
clumsily onto my head; and I swear
I heard a snigger in the moment
before we felt the first fat drops.
Hard Boiled - 2019 Rewrite
Handful of sweets like teeth launched straight into his open mouth makes you wince: head flipped back - trilby glued on - and all over in no time. Back to the broken nose you first saw; and the glare. Looking around won't help - how nerves work is his living. His thoughts aren't many but they're stark and made for this. Have to hope something happens out of a dream: He loses interest and leaves. Close your eyes like life won't end.
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