the shed of electrofried

sometimes I leave my place of work to  descend in a green-neon lit lift to dance in the warming spring  lunchtime of ...

Their feckless razors cut mean red slits through the night. We sleep so restlessly, tossing and turning as the door knocks time and time aga...

Ma, I feel compelled to write ya'll, given the grave sufferances of these last sore days. It was not of my makin' that, tarred and...