Chapin City Blues

Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

It’s static against the ear. The buzzing of a refrigerator. The humming silence in the dead of night when the insomniac’s eyes shoot open. Taking in the void for the first time. Are you comatose, taking the prescription medication and over-the-counter countenance? Are you spoon-fed morality of the arcane? Trigger-happy cerebellum ringing out, finding it …

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