From the Archives
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You Turned Yourself Into An Effigy In Order For Me To Love You
The lights of a kitchen that rests in a period of unchanging time turn on, and a blurred figure is panicked. An adhesive. Something to put you back together. Something to put our love back together again. Drawers fly open. Objects fall onto a dusty floor. A roll of tape, elastic bands, paperclips, cutlery, garbage.…
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No Airbag, We Die Like Men
If only there was a way to let it all be free, to open myself like a cookie jar, emptying out the rotten contents for the birds to peck away at in their hunger. If I could guess I would say that even the birds would refuse it. Poison of the mind cannot purify itself…
