I. I walk upon what ceases to remain, Where neither wall nor beam was spared. I walk on broken glass…
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I. I walk upon what ceases to remain, Where neither wall nor beam was spared. I walk on broken glass…
Reflective thought is utterly addictive. The mismatched colorations of my most vivid realizations and the caviler notions of my shipwrecked…
Imagine the anguish of pincers repeatedly tearing your cheeks apart. Imagine lying on your back and having a large man…