swallow.
One, Two, Three...
Three shots of espresso,
Three grams of a bare head,
Three dull thuds on her band.
final smash!
pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter...
ring! crack! fold!
"sorry, dude, the tunnel down on calhoun calls"
Three fetal hours in that tunnel.
it did not prove restful.
she reaches for God but Being gives pause.
Written by Janette B on September 18, 2026. FUCK COPYRIGHT!