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prose
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The tower that topplesA Story by Fin Buckley"The words come back to you then, you can taste them in the back of your throat, it reminds you of bile." |
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The hand on his shoulderA Poem by Fin Buckley"His hand is on my shoulder and it’s too loose too cold too inhuman, and I don’t need any superpowers to discern that." |
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ThroneA Poem by Fin Buckley"They know your game, they know the cards you dealt yourself. You smile in return, there’s nothing they can do to stop you." |
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in the aftermath of my childhood paradeA Poem by Shyi'm a teen who feels like she's growing up too fast. so i wrote about it |
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Castaways on Asphalt RoadsA Poem by Psychotic LilyWe are isolated when we couldn't follow the norm #notosuicide |
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