thumbs folding the backstreet into idle chatter, until all noise is but a demarcation of where breath is untaxed, both by filth of city air and the jeering of its men their faces open, unvarnished by shame that comes in foreign by city myths where our… Read on blog or Reader Eunoia Review Read on blog or Reader tonight, alone my God loves me like a feral animal left at the door perfectsublimemasters June 3 thumbs folding the backstreet into idle chatter, until all noise is but a demarcation of where breath is untaxed, both by filth of city air and the jeering of its men their faces open, unvarnished by shame that comes in foreign by city myths where our only gods bore silk-white skin, and our dignity had […] Continue reading Comment Like You can also reply to this email to leave a comment.

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