Sealed up in an envelope of sticky silk ( Read more... )

As I slept fully clothed, a single button came undone. This is beauty. This is not beauty. Lack of circulation in the chest; the incubation of arthropods begins. I feel cold. The seasons change uncomfortably yet beautifully; leaves slip from their trees. Loss. A romantically tragic state of affairs. I watch the change remotely; I am slipping as ( Read more... )

this journal is friends only.

unless I know you and trust that you won't steal my material, your chances of being added are pretty unlikely. sorry, but that's just how it goes.