Entries 2
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September 13, 2017
A Mark On the Hand
The hands are dry and weak. This place I’ve come to be. This place in the center of solitude and silence. The barren land that surrounds me. Peoples opinions and movements toward a better f...
July 19, 2017
A Psalm of Lament
Going into your room I find everything just as quaintly undone as I’d always imagined it to be. Empty bedsheets coiled in directions that are unfamiliar to me, but in a way that I can draw an im...
