When I was younger, I spent some ten or so breathless hours lying on an unmade bed, grey sky clamped above me: I was reading one of my mother's books from college, those years when she went through her pagan stage and believed in abortion and Earth Mothers. The legacy of that is kept on… Continue reading poem: sex ed. from camelot
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i could be bound in a nutshell and count it as infinite space if not for these bad dreams
the last pavilion 