tremble like blue

Under the caress of cold caffeine he feels his skull begin to tremble like the touch of someone he hates. There’s blood and coffee howling like lost dogs through the spaces in his veins… trying to slip through layers of tight skin like a bed made too tight to sleep in. It’s time to get out, let the night outside fill his mind with anything else.

Author: mjfeldmar

Marcel Feldmar was born and raised in Vancouver, BC—(That’s Canada, eh?). He studied creative writing at Capilano College and then ended up spending some time in an institution called The Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, and now he lives in Los Angeles where his words often get caught in traffic.

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