Author: idontwriteibleed
yesterday, like a child, i drowned a butterfly (THE ROT BEFORE RESURRECTION). i must use my mother’s molars to tear open aberration, i want the memory to be raw and soft like a five year old scar. rendered sick at her bare legs. throbbing as i presently recount her involuntary fingertips creeping towards relief in my disturbed and pleading eyeline
Meow is a liar and copy pastes other peoples reviews