This is my house, freak. I grew the grasses long and stained the windows so no one will pray for me when I dance naked..
In my darkest, most indulgent moments, I yearn to birth a great, long-tongued demoness into this world. She would be conceived on an Autumn evening..
My poorly painted eyes snapped open, breaking the crusty seal of tears and mascara, and I held my breath until my ribs ached. Yes, this..
Just after dusk when, but for the trees, the snow and sky seem as one, I squint to see your twisted horns in my woods...
This work by The House of Twigs / Author of Article is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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