The whiskey in my glass tastes like sin upon my lips. Stuck between the rock of reality and the hard place known as my imagination is what I find now at the bottom of my glass. It’s not a where or who…it’s a what, what I’m suffering from…an angst riddled therapy session with me and my whiskey. Whiskey and writing…all that matters these days. I even chose a different whiskey this time…I don’t think that helped.
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J. Harris works 3rd shift in the middle of nowhere & spends time working & writing. She love art, geek stuff, her friends & family!
