I wake in a nest of pillows and blankets that smell of fresh straw and heather, blood and sex. Way too much light is coming in for this to be my city apartment, with its blackout shades and heavy curtains. I must be in my crash pad, the shell of a crumbling church a couple … Continue reading Hangover
whiskey
Hangover
I wake in a nest of pillows and blankets that smell of fresh straw and heather, blood and sex. Way too much light is coming in for this to be my city apartment, with its blackout shades and heavy curtains. I must be in my crash pad, the shell of a crumbling church a couple … Continue reading Hangover
Hangover (revisited)
I wake in a nest of pillows and blankets that smell of fresh straw and heather, blood and sex. Way too much light is coming in for this to be my city apartment with its shades and heavy curtains. I must be in my crash pad, the shell of a crumbling building a couple miles … Continue reading Hangover (revisited)
Hangover (revisited)
I wake in a nest of pillows and blankets that smell of fresh straw and heather, blood and sex. Way too much light is coming in for this to be my city apartment with its shades and heavy curtains. I must be in my crash pad, the shell of a crumbling building a couple miles … Continue reading Hangover (revisited)
Hangover
I wake in the shell of a crumbling building that I have been calling home for the last few weeks. It may have been a church once, maybe an armory. Anything that would have made this more clear has been long stripped from the cavernous space. Large gray weathered blocks of stone tumble from a … Continue reading Hangover