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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() you’ll be told to caress the smirks between bloodied rivers before you’re allowed to touch your own hips like a lover; honeysuckle blossom, lie across ruptured statues, sighing velvet euphonies like a newborn lake and pour into him; but, on an eve of sweet macabre, the wary moon will sing a spare mockingbird’s ballad; now they’ll teach you to beat against yourself until there’s a Starry Night Over the Rhône plastered on broken flesh; second coatings lick beauty with a sugared tongue and they’ll say “garden like God himself” but you know God is a loose pomegranate seed sort of lady, birth swimming in Her endless pupils and spilling like wine atop our salvers; Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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