There's a film of memories on the bathroom mirror. Leftover vapor and orgasms from the ghost in the shower. She opens a window to let out the light, and to defrost the door hinges. She screams lyrics wordlessly into the blank slate air. The only person who can hear her is another plane of existence away. He carefully unwraps her shout with arthitic hands, and mails it back as a half-folded paper crane.
9:13 p.m. - 2016-02-29
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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