The Golden Harbor

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2026-08-20 00:53:38 -

The Golden Harbor

The rain tastes of iron. You know this because you swallow it. You spit it into the mud. It is red. It is always red. You walk. The road is a vein. It pulses under your boots. You are tired. Your bones are hollow. They ring like dry gourd shells. Stop. The forest breathes. The trees are old. They have no leaves. They are bones against the sky. You are the witch. You are the curse. They say your...

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