Inspired by Nasreen Mohamedi
I hunt articles away from sentences. That is simply who I have become.
I don’t care to address the sentences with the words they need but I cramp them with all I have swallowed. Unknown blue-grey film of a storm — thin and crossed over. Oh please, reader — loose me as soon as you read — for I am needing a sign, any sign to become the white walls of this stoic London flat that I live in.