Dark Clouds Rain Down Tears Washing Away Swirling Colors From The Clown's Face..
I find myself thinking about that old dog on the end of the chain. That's how I thought of him. I never knew his name. He lived behind the chain length fence on the corner of South Morris Street and Dresden Ave. I walked by there every day on my way to school and every afternoon on the way home, which if pocket change permitted, often involved a trek to Cotton's Gameroom, but I digress. The old dog at the end of the chain wasn't always on the chain. Sometimes he'd be sleeping in the…
ContinueAdded by maggot on November 22, 2018 at 7:32pm — No Comments
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