An open letter to: The Wiz. (2)

Another dismal morning. You know, it’s been grey for over a week. A dirty wash of consistent mundane madness gloomy death smothers the sky. Ultimate foreverfuneral-foreverhell. The winds whipping up and bodies scurry to and fro, across the street panicked anxious scarves in faces blinded car horns blaring children screaming fuck school ma the sunsContinue reading “An open letter to: The Wiz. (2)”

Sanatorium Holiday Home-Stay.

Mumbling a shapeless madness recites old news something I said way back when but that’s not all!Sounds like laughter low growls piped up poppycock don’t sweat it Mongman you’re already dead in the water and what whatWhat’s the deal with the deal always coming up short in empty rooms narrow hallways move around a lotContinue reading “Sanatorium Holiday Home-Stay.”