Swing

All poems to ex-lovers begin, one way or another, with
I should not be thinking of you. Or, if you’re lucky,
I am glad you are dead. This one begins by pointing ( Read more... )

reading huxley's brave new world instead of kafka's metamorphosis feels good on a bright afternoon. damn this predilection for the let-me-tell-you-about-the-general-human-condition affliction.