m. travis walsh

whiskey, 3 AM

at precisely 3 AM i poured myself
a drink. like a villain i skulked off
into the adjacent room with it's
greens and reds, not to mention
the stale smell of sleep. all i
wanted was some peace or, perhaps,
some truth. i got neither. i was
distracted by your memory. my
mind lost track of direction and the
lamp light made me want for
peanuts and sudoku and your arms


m. travis walsh is a bipedal wave-illusion who spends his waking hours pressing fresh pieces of himself onto paper with the ink of his mind's eye. his body resides in nothwest arkansas while his mind is an ardent traveler.