Canyons of crayons made these colors speak
Featured Post
No More Masters
The bones are really breaking inside of me and I have no one left to conceive of no imagination to dry up no silence to feign I have no fore...
-
Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
-
"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...