No. 9 · Tracks
Wanderer
Never before have I turned to the Silver Lady for comfort. Who would ask the wild queen, jealous of her solitude, for a bedtime story or…
No. 9 · TracksSnapshots
The craze of lightning bolts shrieks across the inky sky, irradiated, violet. Lances of rain pelt the ground; a haze rises, spray shattered from the asphalt.…
No. 9 · TracksAdolescence
I'm not the only one who can't live up to Mother: impossibly sweet apple pies, pristine vanilla cream, tiny snake tattoo coiled just above one exposed…