Our contortions, visible or secret, we communicate to the planet already it trembles even as we do, it suffers the contagion of our crises and, as this grand mal spreads, it vomits us forth, cursing us the while.
Our contortions, visible or secret, we communicate to the planet already it trembles even as we do, it suffers the contagion of our crises and, as this grand mal spreads, it vomits us forth, cursing us the while.
I loved Mal Evans holding one note down on You Won't See Me from Rubber Soul.
It was a classic grand mal seizure. We're all guinea pigs of vaccines.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories