Alone was she, washing the bleeding lilies; dandruff floating in the bin.
Jailed was he, limp and useless; breathing behind a cardboard door.
Cry, I cry, crowing for my hunger; still I lay, on the floor.
In the rubbish we search for a mother. Found instead: dandruff floating in the bin.
2 comments:
i like your work, even though it's probably a bit too artsy side for me to really get without working at it. But i felt the same way about Mrs. Dalloway before i got into wolf's stream of consciousness style. Radical Idea: maybe you should write a novel! :P
I just did some writing too! check out my note oh notable one, they're in need of some Editing i think, especially the second one.
How graphic.... I wish you posted more of your work online! You know I love it!
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