But I’m still keeping these photographs even when keeping them under my possession would slowly kill me; even if it would mean several cuts on my flesh; even when the edges were already stained with blood, wiped from my cut openings; even if it would mean suicide. 84 more words
It is always the darkest in the beach of Acapulco after sunset. Resorts do not populate this strip of sand. Only the faint yellow light escaping from the bamboo walls of Nipa huts illuminate the shore. 270 more words
Everyone is marching out of tune these days,
Spirals of armies heading for one’s sanity besiege the mind enemy at once.
New joy, I forbid you to disappear and leave no bread crumbs behind… 328 more words