I like boring things.
Nocturne, Virginia Hamilton Adair
Draw the hour dark as a bruise where neon shopfronts jerk and implore on-off, arrow-arrow enter me, like any whore. On streets of soot and stain the first brushes of rain daub jewels and holocausts through violet exhausts and the wet deepens like a dream while souls in stereo ferry the black and fiery stream. [...]