Drill (The Year is Halfway Done)
Dearest Depression Residents,
Your neighbor on the 16th floor is having a folly of amour fou and replacing his rat traps with soft diffuse ambient lighting. You may hear executions for the next happy needle or two.
A husband and a harpy will drill you into extinction.
Thank you for your volleys of shotgun blast and peanut butter ball exegesis. The edge of sanity welcomes only a few—and we are not of that lot.
Thank you,
Your deluded and denuded management.
What I’m Reading:
Sometimes, with some dreams, you awake and sense that the dream is ongoing elsewhere.
— Han Kang / We Do Not Part
thee istsfor manity reader 