veoymuestro

there's no form of patience that can refrain from paling and the last leg of winter raised obscenely, like a dog about to piss this is what they meant when they said the rats were drowning and the limp you faked to park there tastes like sewage, damp, and cyanide the liver-failure bridge you just had to go and marry turned out to be more of a mail-order bride, and that's not even the worst thing on your mind it's not like tomorrow's waiting for you, a doctor on call or a safety net to snag the skin of your teeth--not since the only thing left to fall on became the crunch of bone