Archive - March 2021

Apollo’s Son

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...


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...

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