Heart Disease RegistryThis one is diseased, where should I go?Heart Disease Registry
Have you already reported to reception?
Yes, they told me to come here...
You'll need to answer a few questions before we can refer you to the registrar. I don't really see why all this is necessary...
You've seen the signs and posters?
Yes.
Then it should be obvious, I'm sure. A diseased heart is a danger to yourself and the entire community, potentially the entire world, they must be registered, they must be accounted for, for all we know right now it could be spreading. Do you have it with you now?
Yes,
WarnamboolIn my town a hermaphroditic angel stands on a war memorial, jacking off and flipping the bird to impotent cannons forever guarding the coast against the japs, who may come one day, lusting as they must after our maritime museum, our savanna like beach front where tall dry grasses evoke lions and tigers prowling just out of sight but not sense. The roar of the ocean and the pup like squeals of the young surfers falling so easily predator and prey beyond the rise of the dunes.Warnambool
On the walk way gray weathered signs nestle seeming ancient beach wood toting prophetic wisdoms 'show you care, keep to the path' a sudden calm in the ocean
sleeperWhen the child was born she was given blessings, that much is true. Her father called the witches, called them by the moon and the Goddess and asked them to bless his daughter, he made no blood sacrifice, he paid no homage, he felt himself above such things perhaps, secure in taking what was his due. More likely he was afraid to acknowledge their power, unobtainable as it was by him. And so he called them and they gave their blessings and there are those who say that there was one who was not invited, who was bitter and jealous, but that was not the way of it, all were called, all came, all blessed and waited for their payment, for their due.sleeper
Master of RavensMaster of RavensMaster of Ravens
1 My little brother is nine years old the first time I decide to kill him.
During the night, snow fell over the jagged wreckage of our land. In the morning I realize he will follow me outside if I call to him. Like an awkward-limbed colt he’ll stumble through the snowdrifts, and I can leave him to the ice and wind in the shadow of a three-walled building. No one will see me. Our father will think he has gotten lost on his own. I too will cry when they find his body. When the mourning is done, however, I will be my father's true and only son. ‘Cam,’ he will call to me, and I’
luggage bukkakeyou cultivate another dappled spleen and batter the fidgeting devotees of firtree nourishment with summer savoury. leroi's in savoy, he's got truffles. you read the craze with your fingers as the streamer flaps in the wind near the funicular railway like a fastened farce near a frying pan full of portly liquorice proper nouns evacuating the risotto wails of dismissal. you coronate the gesture with your farts, they kindle the twilight like pepperoni darts. AWAY IS THE GIN.luggage bukkake
