Wrizzit
For everything, down to the scribbles.
For everything, down to the scribbles.
my sanctuary, the Dark: sometimes I think if I do not sleep, the morrow will not come I dig my nails into the hour hand begging her to stay • here, suspended, where light cannot reach I feel a semblance of peace • my sanctuary, the Dark I dress it how I like adorned in soft sounds and heavy sheets, it beckons me • eventually my grip goes slack and I fall into the space between ~g.o Achieng