the soiling

  he fingered her lace, widening the holes, little to no regard that they would never shrink to their original size. it was skin, delicate and servile, ornamental in his eyes. in the end, her porous body was broken, shattered, like silver fragments of mirror reflections of fading brightness, shining even in decline. she held … Continue reading the soiling

Necromancy (Or Raising the Dead)

every thing that happened to me was some kind of magic when they laid me in the grave minutes past being born walked away from me like moses and sent me down the river life to die touched my body in ways ain't supposed to be and beat me with their own regret raised welts … Continue reading Necromancy (Or Raising the Dead)