Licking her lips and smiling slick Is the nun who wears the hooker’s heels. Her foam flowers conceal the slaking scent. She inflicts wounds she…
-
-
My steel pleasure has already drifted into the night, And now I sit isolated above the court of lovers held tight. Stillness haunts me as…
-
You—abysmal undead—sulk within my tired mind, Beg to be held by her empathy, so warm and kind. You wrap my garden in dreams, turn my…
-
The pounding. The slow, rhythmic beat invites an ugly, industrial breakage of sense. Reality melts around me, suffocating the seizures of intense imagination that now…