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Bollweevil

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Sordid the under from windowville. Light. Corner out bump or or; palms hornwise to white bruises? Dry? Again and Unmirror ddammitt you stop. stop. Blue. Angry. Pain Bollweevil struggles

Desperately up out of the dementia. His hands are shaking. He’s dirty and his mouth tastes like piss. People are walking by, trying not to see him. He’s cold and so thirsty; he scrapes his lips with his tongue and tries to speak, which

Lost. Tumble: word aways. Grit wheelfinger nails as, cry! Lost (but lost (but

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