Li Conde
Butterfly needle
Buenos Aires blues
Smooth tiles
Putrid smoke
Gregor Samsa woke up as an angel
Trying to moult when young

Coming of age in manic depression

Abilify
you hear a rhythmic jingling— close your eyes: the nurse’s keys bouncing down the hall the linoleum floor prevents you from falling all the way down to the dirt the corners of the room are softened by time and blackened by mould the tips of plastic tines are at