We were just children when it happened, heels hot on the asphalt, a black burn like a black hole. How were we to know it could swallow us whole, our charcoaled feet ensnared like caged ravens.
Asleep, I am someone else, transcendent, immortalised. That is the problem. In dreams, I melt, skin woolly and soft/loose like felt fibres slowly unravelling, until my face is a cotton candy blur. I ...
I would sit in the corner, clutching my sketchbook until it bled, until graphite spilled out onto my fingers like an open wound, I liked digging my nails into the parchment and leaving jagged, monoch...