Story written in 1997 about an event in 1994 recorded in 2014 mixed with b-roll from 2005. Pile of junk for you.
More fucking teen angst, god. I coast into the flaring nostrils of a wild German horse, only to find my mother’s crutch, my sister’s blush, and my brother’s bald spot. Nevermind. Insert: Ode to an uphill struggle; I have nothing … Continue reading →
curse I am weak I may not move a muscle For each muscle speaks Nervous, and I am needy I am a freak Can’t see, where am I bleeding There is no punctuation In what I am saying There is … Continue reading →