11:
Here come the dark clouds —
They best not be writing checks
Their asses can’t cash.
12:
Trying for new starts
On days when the wind blows hard
Necessitates naps.
13:
How long could it take
For the relief of a chill
To become a curse?
14:
When is hard too hard?
When you sink to the bottom?
Or the dead man’s float?
15:
I am the glow cloud.
Watching, waiting, vigilant.
Welcome to Night Vale.
bohemian.on.rye 