Despite the constant negative press covfefe, it is true that my name is Kalashnikov. There…
Category: Fiction
Short stories by Wayne K. Spear.
Trumpetsound, a fissure of sky. A midnight darkness visible yields to His glory. The firmament…
Through the fence between the curling flower spaces the ones who make the words the…
Mr Htimsbackwards, my friend, perhaps even my conscience, perhaps my only friend and my only…
Did I not say I have been busy? Yes, I was busy. “Busy doing what?” you say. Busy crawling about the city, my ears stinking of cheese, willing into existence my world-historical conception.
I have written it all in my book. What you fail to grasp, but what you will grasp, and what I am helping you to grasp, on behalf of the President, is the nature of truth, of reality, of reality in and of itself, unmolested by the media.
An alternative reality is required, a reality of forever intoxicating heights.
