Empty

Empty, today clanged along like a ox wagon in a spaghetti western in which whistling violins accompany an hour of slow movement over endless wastelands until when the most dogged member of the audience finally left the cinema, at that point a shot pings, a bullet shrieks and the driver dies.

Faker
Fake it till you make it.  But there comes a point at which you have moved passed...

June 23
There seems to be an inertia settling over my days, like a dust that for some reason is...