flash by flawnt

Everybody else is from another planet, only I am from here. This is not a foolish notion, it’s plain truth, true as the venerable bones of Gisela the Blessed’s relics deposited in Regensburg, whose catholic choir boys are affectionately called dom sparrows chirping away through days of godforsaken molestation. Whatever the ashen news, I am on a global good vibes trip using the energy my viral infection has left me with. The whole world is a pulsating patchwork and we’re wakefully busy connecting dotless lines as we read, write, wreath, ride. The serious writer is going back to bed. Feverishly hopeful, he puts on his ice mask. He meets a duvet, falls in love, rests, dreams an entire libretto titled: We Shall Not Sleep.