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onlinejournals: I open my hands like a book and loose sheets of paper fall onto my lap, blank and old, curling at the edges. I open my hands like a chest of drawers and moth balls roll over my fingertips and across the carpet. Crisp, dead stick bugs lie in the bed of my hand and I close my palms again in respect. I open my hands like the door of my house and a hard wind blows through my...
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WatchWatch
youmightfindyourself: Breaking Upwards
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Apr 6th
beachsounds: napowrimo #5 →
Are you sure it’s the only thing you don’t like about living in the city not being able to see stars? The smell of wet concrete is on my list, midnight sirens so many cars, so many sins seeping down drain holes disguised, trash piled up for collection, billboards littering golden…
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February 2010
27 posts
Feb 23rd
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