The Nightmare Touches Its Forehead to My Lips The Nightmare Touches Its Forehead to My Lips
The sky feels like a k-pin doused with some other shit that’ll kill you— infectious harp. :: The space between language— shard of porcelain from the dictator’s hous…
Feb 18, 2020 / Books & the Arts / Andrés Cerpa
The Nightmare Touched Its Forehead to My Lips The Nightmare Touched Its Forehead to My Lips
For the living, water. And now, you’re all the wells mined for their depth. All of the silence & all of the alls I can conjure. You are not in the living room. You are not in y…
Jan 21, 2020 / Books & the Arts / Andrés Cerpa