The Wistful Asylum
The iron gates of the Blackwood Asylum do not creak, for they are bound in lead and silence, yet you feel their weight in your teeth, a metallic taste that coats the tongue like old blood and rust, a sensation that has become so intimate to you that you can no longer distinguish the flavor of the air from the flavor of the confinement that holds it, and as you stand in the courtyard where the...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 5 Views 0 önizleme