thrown into unceasing non-existence with the company of grotesque figurines utterly void of faces, only the sequin oblong heads and ball jointed arms, their touch plush yet almost comforting, my hand sinks the way it does in sleep before falling into a dream of flight only to suspended in blue, a place that can never be reached as the ceiling we find ourselves under time and time again.

i've never really been here
  • <redacted>
  • JoinedNovember 4, 2016

Stories by caraparcel
virtue boys by caraparcel
virtue boys
a world without principles , high school student sheng tze-ho is thrown to the abandons of violence and hyper...
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concourse by caraparcel
photographs and snapshots are all that remain in the urban square, haunted in geometric designs now almost wi...
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