of my life : typed and handwritten.


when the rains come I let time slip in cups of Darjeeling tea and her contralto vocals strum my soul like butterfly wings on Cleopatra’s eyelashes o yes her words are black as the bulimia she wouldn’t talk about and yes the only thing her stomach wouldn’t reject was Vodka which poisoned her but what…

Her Mama

Mama encounters a thing that resembles her daughter.