Anomalies of the Third Tongue Part 1 She was a middle class girl who indulged high tea and higher morals. “I love you all the time” whispered her soft fleshy lips. “I feel it all,” I retorted, sharper than the thorns that would surround her rosebud mouth. Sweeping a stylised fringe from where it had caught in her bovine length eyelashes, I spoke in guttural persuasions. “There’s a curse on this town, I’ve been a fool.” Subliminally I heard her thoughts processing, like the sweet smell of lili...

Picking my thoughts like chicken bones

Picking my brain like chicken bones