I am the fall, the winter of a soul,
A rusted coin, a shadow of a toast--
In the distant sun where I chose to longing
In a constant snap of the lost indistinctive echoing.
2021
I am the fall, the winter of a soul,
A rusted coin, a shadow of a toast--
In the distant sun where I chose to longing
In a constant snap of the lost indistinctive echoing.
2021
Drenched from the blood in my veins, this book speaks of the different aspects of the dark. Catastrophically, the woeful brooks flow through these pages, bringing with them, the unavoidable, unwaveri...