In the End: Boxes and Boxes of Glass Eyes. {poetry}
What she saw as elegance was, to my eyes, nothing short of macabre. I needed a job, and this limp-haired, twitchy woman had one.
Browsing Tag:
doll
Paper Dolls, Paper Nights: Tasting The Dark Of My Shadow Self.
You cannot take the night from me, I tell them with my eyes, the doorways and the blinking neon. You cannot take my steps. Do you not know that I am my own escort?