There’s something called the “cocksucker swivel” and buddy, you have mastered it.

But that’s something I’d expect from someone who ran off and pawned their wedding ring for an ayahuasca trip in the Andes.

There’s no rotgut whiskey that’ll ease your mind now.

Twin prop propeller plane on a downward journey. Worn rosary beads and burnt prayers can’t turn up the nose of destruction.

Bountiful harvest in a sensual weight. Each key tap echoing out past the edges of an unprepared end.