12 bass. 2 hours.
The wall of brambles guarding the 1/2-acre farm pond ate my lunch. But that’s how it goes when you play the game.
And here I am lamenting that I’m handcuffed during the week.
Whatever.
PISS & MOAN
Updated: Jul 10, 2020
top of page
Search
Recent Posts
See Allthank fucking god for that guitar making the most of his chance in hell whiskey with two ice cubes amphetamine fiddle and impossible banjo run lightning-strike tiptoes I can’t hear fast enough mando a
I wake to the wilderness in her eyes and a futile wish for cool air from the ceiling fan. Morning coffee and a cigarette on the porch. Shafts of sun and smoke tendrils. The coffee still too hot to sip
bottom of page