- Vol. 03
- Chapter 04
These stares will melt your lips for simulating the silence. Don’t do it
—the sharps are curled and thin, the language between the space cannot whisper what has occurred—
and these hands: most are hidden for the reason, upon hiding, the crow spoke dream into the moment’s allegory for leaving
—this home has old hands, alabaster cool clarity: you are not allowed within, and its shadow runs to birth safety behind the trees’ contemporary conceal.