A story of binding and the taste for self-destruction. I Exists only in the swallowtail, of my bruised sternum. in purple and black HE reminds me that I must remain. II A...
Archive - March 2021
Reagan Paul
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clenching the walkman,blistering guitar solos penetratedmy ears as I hid in the corner hopingneighbors didn’t hear china breaking in the kitchen.tracing each unexplained beauty markto the next on my arm, my eyes...