pivotal union of the mouths- when i was bled out efficiently i could accept property and begin the shoddy wood selection to encase our progress within until he began to harangue me about shoe selection and the futility became akin to the fervent cries of wet crows and i was consumed with a plaintive space that crept in and yet far and then grace dictated the movement of the sun which seared the corporate cornea and left me grateful, void of volition, able to follow the sheep wherever they went.
3 comments:
lovely, nice shot!
Whatever you do, never follow sheep.
She examined the jeweler's case of perfume-emitting sextants which marked distance from a foul sulfur to vetiver and oak moss, Ibn Simʿūn's Qibla indicators to find the way to Mecca, repurposed banshees whose infrasonic screams functioned as sonar, maps made of mirrors and stained glass, but ultimately for her compass she spilled quicksilver and followed it across the floor, through the cracks, into the drain, all the way down.
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