Chapin City Blues

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

Except it never goes away, does it? This feeling of missing pieces. Loosed-leaf paper dancing in the visible billowed wind as the fan scans the heated bedroom. It’s 12 p.m. and I taste your sweat on my lips, the tip of my tongue swollen from the thirst of you. || Faltering at the edges, staring …

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