What’s a thimble but an opportunity to protect the tips we thread through the air with, pointing out the lonely and how they only wear sewn-up tattered things. Continue reading Lonely is a very crowded place to be by Thomas Fucaloro
“Sorry, our time is up.” I tell my therapist “I eat my soup with a fork because I don’t know any better my truths are things I paint from my own despair. I am my own dealer. I have been selling lies to myself for, like, forever and I’m pretty sure the lamb in me is just a limb in me beating the shit out … Continue reading “Sorry, our time is up.” by Thomas Fucaloro
