extinction looms naught else but kindness in the face of death still, saintly tending her growing dead their shadows are longer on every setting sun with hal...

I go from having few keys, to having lots, to having few. The more doors I can unlock, the less I look at the world. I've got fewer keys now.

With soft animal angles and ankle bones We deteriorate.  A contract in invisible ink. Origin unknown. Sleep distinctly lacking, explicit in its absence. Your...

It’s like I was born to be broken up with. I wear ear plugs on public transport now. In quietude As I read Sylvia Plath and gently sob on the N207 to Holborn...