4.22pm: I grow horns something biblical, perhaps rather unspectacular 9.44pm: the thirst for annihilation, it consumes shards of broken...

A clear sky does not always mean change, a storm can hide beneath a pink tinged evening You know me from another life People tend to...

Angels perched, crying tears of milk their songs like lullabies, soft as velvet, while the prophets are laying asleep. An angel peeps...