apologies?
there might have been a tingle?
verses and musings of j stoeckmann, all rights reserved.
there might have been a tingle?
moving beyond the eclipse comes with no guarantees
Stealing silence deadly winds her belches warn dissent, That’s the way, conclusion cold as witches’ tits, Robbing identities, strangling servants, matching half wits
Into the same lightness set you free
the week, any week, anytime