. . . she slides the gun along the wall
guiding it with a breathless muttering about letters and jobs while he waits anger smoldering claiming his being into existenceshe cornered beautiful eyes terrified collapses whispering of time the sensuous sigh of sex caresses & arouses & he panics nervously scratching the wall paper then she sneers a sleezy broken hearted diva drowning the cry of unrequited love and the whispering fear of childish horror
we are the blind the shaking struggle of the defenseless
helpless . . .
:: note :: . . . the university term moves towards an end . . . for the first time ever it is a spring of text work . . . an exercise of enormous challenge . . . frightening & so rewarding . . . a collective story . . .