heartworn highways

I am looking at just boiled potatoes. I can share a porch with an old man and fantasize about his hands on my neck. We can do many things with our breath. Such as syncopate or synchronize. I think you can guess which one is better. This persons eyes begins to close. This person sleeps. It is romance. A new life comes easily after this, a growl.  

Published by Marcus Slease

Born in Portadown, Northern Ireland, Marcus Slease has made his home in such places as Turkey, Poland, Italy, South Korea, the United States, Spain, and the United Kingdom – experiences that inform his nomadic surrealist writing. His latest book is Never Mind the Beasts (Dostoyevsky Wannabe 2020).

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