“I think of her sometimes, on nights like this, when my shirt is low and the wind kisses my chest as greedy eyes stare. They don’t know there is nothing there anymore. I ate her years ago, splitting the tough skin with my front teeth to reach the fruit inside. But tonight, here, with the moon hiding behind low, yellow clouds, Beautiful Girl walks with me.”
Read More“The answer is you and I, it always is. In that sea of dust, there was nothing. Quiet, not a wave, not a sound. In that flat endless world, a soft and gentle breeze started to blow.”
Read MoreWe share the same affliction, him and I.
Read MoreI sit cross-legged before the mirror yet again. What do I see? I see a face. Is it me, or some Other?”
Read MoreReal-life paganism is beyond the blood, drama, and telekinetic miracles on television and is rooted in natural connection to the Earth’s seasons.
Read MoreThe Sydney sulk followed me to the country.
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