the wood between the worlds

it was raining this morning the sort of slow, gentle soaker that requires windshield wipers and raincoats and encourages the grass to green but when i left the office in the blueing evening only one lonely puddle remained in the empty parking lot as i walked toward my car i caught a glimpse of tree…

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translation found

i sit here in the darkness silent as the city noise streams through my open window this is not a night of knowing what to say so i stay speechless struck dumb by what i do not understand i cannot fathom that which is unfathomable i cannot imagine a bottomless pain i cannot envision hell to do…

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kiss cursed

in the final moments before you set yourself swinging tell me, what were you thinking of? what had filled those three homeless years in the moments between the stories we see? a coin filched slyly from the moneybag — a self-righteously seething sneer at the tears and perfume of a prostitute? tell me, did you…

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