franny
bananafish

we spies
we slowhands
you put the weights all around yourself...
interpol

letters and phone calls never sent. billions of words to choose from and not one can i pluck from...a sky full of stars and so blue it’d make you cry. not even lonely is this gorgeous, or eyes...see right through me now. pretend i didn’t exist. pat yourself on the back for work that was...hidden somewhere in the attic or behind the bookshelf, tons of promises handwritten with care, envelopes stuffed with possibility, sealed with....c’mere, i’ve got a secret. i spied myself...riding a motorcycle...wearing a long scarf...spirit flying now, it’s long....

overdue

pleasure set upon
slow release.
interpol