I like the possibility of anything, the little fear I feel when you enter a room. I am beyond the jaw of law. The sheets were cool and a fine talc of dust lay everywhere the way some men who live alone are used to living. My life — deed I have done to artistic extreme — I drag you with me. The she of rumor talked about — and worse, who talks. Membrane stretchy like saliva in your hand. For this, the cross, the calvary.
Addyson. Age: 20.
Mine — the telephone, my tongue, Both black as a gun.
Alisson. Age: 26.
The kind who reels the twilight sky. A pea under twenty eiderdowns. Take me like a boy, hurt me a little.