there is something magical in an overcast day where the sun stares down with a corona of malaise through the misty skies when the words flow like sweet nectar across the honeyed sick of anxiety and woes a time of insipid prose that coats the inside of the manic skull while tapping out meteoric metaphors […]

some saturdays feel like freedom while others cast a pall like a funeral shroud over an otherwise fleeting sense of flight the machinations of grinding flesh to paste beneath the mechanical jaws of hubris plays a catchy song of bones splintering along the fluffy white candy clouds in the pastel blue banishment of weeping stars […]