On these longest days when my wire-limbed shadow stretches on for miles, when I walk on the ground a little harder in hopes of turning..
For all of my Witch’s know-how, I never saw it coming. Her million-beamed, white-as-milk but sharp-as-tungsten-needles fem-force of holy destruction pierced my butter-soft skin from..
The pods I plant now are engorged with the ruby red heirloom seeds of dissent and shielded by razor-sharp, scaled skin tattooed with my wedding..
Do not pray for me, you righteous pilgrim. I beg you not to mistake this momentary glimpse into my psychic depths as an open invitation..