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A sonic scrapbook
"But how the trees graft themselves to the lake, how the clouds hang from the moon like your memory swings from my chandelier: remember this landscape, if nothing else, the way I still wrap my stain glass around your sunlight."
-ANti-midnight
in the kingdom
of yes
ORIGIN STORY / STORY ORIGIN
separation as absence of asylum. separation as sunsets grown moldy, with carniverous teeth now. separation as careless as a minefield in her chest that someone ran through carelessly. separation as words like poisoned prayers (hallowed be thy name). separation as shrivelled, bruised gospels. separation as eating one's shadow, digging one's own canyon. separation as the lone tundra. separation as a cathedral in the middle of nowhere and nobody, steeple downed, pews on fire. separation as ronin minus a master, soul-ache in his eyes. separation as remainder, as what remains when love is not enough.
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