The Golden Greenhouse
The ivy climbs. You watch it. It is a green machine. It eats the light. It eats the stone. You are in the cellar. The air is thick. It smells of damp earth. It smells of rot. It smells of your own breath. You are not here by choice. You are here because the law says so. The law is a cage. The cage is made of words. Words are sharp. Words cut deep. You are a thief. That is what they say. You...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior