All your pill bottles congregate, a small choir silent as rain. They were not the bridge we hoped. We never wanted eternity. Just another
It’s the one about the insomniac fortuneteller huffing down snowy streets, professing premonitions to the headless mannequins in the tombstone-storefronts. I’ve been roaming the
It takes me no time at all to make the shadow spread like a carpet. I am the advancing sea, the embers left by