saliva slings loosed

Posted on August 4, 2021 by istsfor manity

Her Midwinter Blues

I pine for the days of guileless saliva slings loosed down to my toes, before the unexpected guttings and unremitting blood—ratiocination fading—eddying down the bathtub drain…

“Every man you ever meet is nothing but the product of what was withheld from him, what he feels owed.”

— Omar El Akkad / What Strange Paradise

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....

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This entry was posted in Writing and tagged Blues, Chance Operations, Collage, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Dada, Dream Notation, Experimental something, Experimental writing, Ghosts, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Nothing, Paranoiac-Critical, Poetry, Post-Apocalypse, Prose Poetry, Random Sights with Signs, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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