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extrication

  • and i move through this masquerade

    Twirling we fall into ribbons of midnight gold my head spins but i twist and weave--- anonymity lies in the glittering obscurity of our faces Our rippled reflections will tell ...

    • Poetry
    • Dramatic
    1 min read


'Tis the season to shovel enormous amounts of watermelon into your mouth while hunched over the cutting board like a dehydrated vampire that hasn't fed on blood in four hundred years and the only viable substitute is this questionable Christmas-colored fruit.
— Ari11