The burden was not so much walking into the room and seeing her in a blood soaked towel....It was more so seeing the shine of the knife my friend was holding....
Ode to those silly awkward silences...
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I wish there was some moral or didactic quality to this work, for no other reason than to put a conventional wind to my sails, to stop a free-drift to literary oblivion; but like a typical atheist who, before his slaughter, will no doubt seek the aid of God, I too, despite contrary conviction, am forever destined to wordy, generally incoherent and long-winded canvasses of thought. James Majoros http://cavalcades.blogspot.com/
Turtle Winks
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April
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- Fertilizer and Egg
- Stages...
- Imagination Running Amuck
- Oddly Enough
- To Peculiar Men
- Grooming to Appear Appealing
- Awkward Moments
- Mistrials
- The Grumpy Young Man
- The Grumpy Old Man
- The Artist's Opening
- Feminism
- Coming of Age...
- The Young Woman
- Emotional Architecture
- Dreams...
- Shelves and Spaces
- Simply for the Novelty
- Given the constitution of the world...
- Foundations
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April
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