Sets
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Cricket15 plays
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Doubting Thomas and the Makeup Artist13 plays
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Feast Day3 plays
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Buzzard6 plays
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O! Bugs!6 plays
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Holding Cell4 plays
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Silver Coil6 plays
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Mad Moses5 plays
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Pure Terror3 plays
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Sympathy for the Devil6 plays
Posts
Just glance at the red shirt beneath my long grey coat, there’s a peanut-brained songbird with a crookneck toward his own plumb. I’m going to find out when the last day comes what a nothing idea this all was, spending time on something easy and meaningless just not to be the cause myself. I’m going to have to give something up. Something has to go. The palace crumbles into the sea. Every improvement faces the shore and every exploration taken through tunnels underground.
Pull over to inspect a jackknifed tractor trailer, left for the tow truck wrecking crew. Amongst the screaming arteries the men approach the hulking mess, rolled off into a triangle of grass. “Dennis, the back’s all chained up, you want to try shove your skinny head into that crack and see what our friends left us?” But Dennis was already prostrate on the ground between the sod tire tracks, taking time to worship in the surrounding grander. “God damn it Dennis, you gonna take a power nap in place like this?…well I’m not about to wait on you to straight smash these chains and gather up some loot.” The metal clang of steel on steel leaped up above the roar of the highway and the doors swang open. “Oh my lord Dennis come look here.” But Dennis was oblivious to the sight, calm in prayer, a foot above the ground, and yard from the highway.
