Dear Young Us, I know love to be both a villain and a hero. It cuts deep into your being
Alarm clocks blaring—our sightless hands search the nightstand and windowsill trying to dismiss the inevitable arrival of morning. Still despite our success of
The seals have been broken, the trumpets have sounded, and still the great masses of the human familia choose to
Is she? Bipolar? Me? Bipolar…oh no…I think I might be…manic though But she’s off-kilter. Her got PTSD in our bloodstream
Have you prepared yourself to die Egypt? that is what the lot of you asked me. I said “No”—unknown to
We live in a house with creaking floorboards. We lose ourselves between the cracks and crevices. Most days, we float
We always believed we could fly—no one else did. They only saw us getting as far off the ground as
They will say we sound like the distant rumble of two trains passing in the wake of night—like the scent
I have stood on the bank of the Patapsco, staring across the water at the steel trees with no branches