what about all the cats
what about all the cats all great writers are lovers of cats hemingway kerouac vonnegut cats cats cats dogs are fine cats are refine little monsters with murder mittens teeth…
nothing she could tell me
nothing she could tell me she said it with anger and a three-martini lisp sat out on the balcony of the old new orleans hotel it hit knocked the breath…
behind this window of sorrow
behind this window of sorrow my life was splintering in a shower of sparks and fear lifeblood coursing ever faster and higher ayn rand's anthem was preaching words spilling into…
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