vestrit

Winter for the homeless was the word upon the streets. In a hundred different moments we were bruised, but never beat. Faint and close to pavement, we were the litter on the roads. Shot-down, forlorn and hungry, we took the performance to the show. I was a while yonder, bound down by shade and air, contracting and releasing. I stole the steps from all the stairs. A chasm was vibrating, sending out all sorts of noise. Paid daily for the transport, I accepted and enjoyed. Strapped on, heart-beats were failing. Jolted quickly to the floor, wail higher, little solider. They’ll hear you for years more. Protrude an