March 5, 2018

Madre, that Spanish man was no good.

His hands touched what shouldn’t have...

March 5, 2018

Your room was the darkest shade of burgundy

Built upon the remnants of an...

March 5, 2018

I spent the summer on my back, staring at the sea
Lying in the sand, grie...

March 5, 2018

Sometimes ants crawl out of my mouth

Carrying the things that are dear to...

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