two bodies on the train, shimmeringfat on the form makes me out to be soft and porousand penetrable but what if I want to existas something a polished slab of wet concreteuprootedan infinite ashtray isgrowing beneath floral wallpaper i can feel my sneakers rotting off my feeti wear these holographic TNspulsating veinswatching people watching me as i watch themon the 2 during a prime july … Continue reading This Is How I Bury My Dead TNs by Seb Callaway