Rolling Pins on acid eyes Depending on atmospheres centuries or never past curtains in dirt flecks on screens Paperback, manila, the ultramarine static smell of electricity Persistence like animal carrion crooks on the hills of fields left in a box far west lost in hives, hypotension
There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.