lifetimeproblems's profile

My old parks are not what they used to be, they have been soiled dry. I don’t think anything will grow there anymore, at least nothing pretty, nothing to look at. An old favorite of mine was Mitchell Park, outlying the center of the blue and black part of the city, planted like a ring around a sore bruise. There, Maurice would tell me the most slight things while we would lay strewn across a park bench, her head sitting between my chest and my arm, right below my shoulder, constric...

And there was Saunders, the girl with the fat, budding eyes, the girl that rooted herself in side-sweeping negligence, the kind that moved her from one place to another, from one end of an ugly valley to the deepest bottom of some big canyon, rooted in and rotted out with the staunch, never-ending stability of a corpse. She submitted herself to the trees, to the crow’s eye view, to the perspective of gaseous planets, she reveled in the lunacy of the golden moon haze, from the far reachi...