Letting Life Lead
I think I should perish shackled in matrimony these seven years.
Upon my bed, your musk clings in the sheet folds and pillow dents. Your caresses linger in creases where polite tongues daren’t tread. Oh, fortune that propriety is not your forte.
Come tonight? My balcony waits.
The Literary (or Junk) Writings of Leslie Muzingo
Poetry, History, Mythology
The White Trash Hoe Experience
Learn to Live
Fiction, Nonfiction, and Poetry Journal
TinyPurpleMe: Part Two
Illustrated Short Stories
Essays and reviews on narrative in games and new media
My reflections of life in general.