a writer of sorts
I’m dreaming of a metal cage. A bloodied angel caught, hanging over me – unscathed but screaming. His life rains it’s final hour and . . . I am trapped … Continue reading →
April 27th I could hear Spiggy moving around about 6:30. He knocked on my door and then cautiously opened it. He’d found his clothes and dressed himself. “I made eggs … Continue reading →
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