remyronda
the doorknob twists as he pushes the door open into a dark room where nothing sleeps. He lies down beside her and weeps and longs for something to guide her into being. And all along the way down he wonders in agony for the turmoil and decay and birthing of something new
pins and stripes and pans and staples stand on the desk of the servant modecai as he sleeps in the dungeon and pees off the balcony of nether you mind and nether you will the way of the wind of the north to the south of nothing.