A poem room habitat of contemplation. Monday, February 19, 2018. Failure is a lean black glove. It folds us into ourselves. Its stink starts to creep. Into all the things you touch. The faces which you see. The voice with which you speak. Hate curls from the wound. Like a thin white wire of smoke. Smiling, laughing in their luck. Are cool and at ease. Mowing down all us poor fucks.

So, why have we spent the summer risking life and limb wrangling with a colony of armed and dangerous bugs? Via Half Pond Bees.

Curiously crunchy popcorn in seven perfected flavors. To all the people with Turophobia out there, you probably want to pick another flavor. 8220;What the heck is Angry Kettle Corn? 8221; may be what you just asked yourself. And added a little SPICE.