I don’t owe you anything though there are moments when I feel that I still do owe some sort of penance weighty and tight in my chest owe it to a memory that may or may not have ever been real cuz I can’t be certain anymore of anything I can recall as it’s all tangled/distorted … Continue reading Atone


I lay myself like harvested wheat over and over again before men hungry for reaping, and every time I remain stiff and sullen under their graceless hands, their base maneuverings leaving me dulled when once I was afire with possibility. Is this how it is to be loved?