Hunger Lounge: from 30/30 2019

in tame, cemented days like these ensconced in automated ease ah, what a gift again to see hunger, lounging in a tree all tawny bright, not quite replete yet not so fraught as seeking meat would make this golden beast ah, what a gift of joy to dream of your, instead of siren’s scream your…

Transit of Alexandra

Fuckin they’re on Native Time. I ain’t scared Ma, I’m mad. Fuckin chicken shit! I’m shaking cause I’m mad, Ma, that’s how mad I am! Two sets of footsteps, one a halfbeat behind. She catches up to Ma as they pass me, raging about white cunts on stolen land they’s just borrowing this place we…