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Mar 2020
Music wafts in static silence as I trace my name in shaky capital letters, wiping away fog clinging to the car window. Night’s darkness envelops us and guitar strums become galactic gore dripping from unnamed heavens, sweeter than honeycomb. Melodies swell and constellations burst like fireworks as owls hoots disturb sleeping children. I’m awash in half-baked light, patterns shriveling, expanding, floating into wisps of purple, fragmentations of fantastical celestial cosmos cool against my fingertips.
M
Written by
M  15/Cis/NYC
(15/Cis/NYC)   
64
   Fawn
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