Omen (opens in new tab)

I leap out of bed. & night burns at my feet. Awake. My morning is ashes—naked & quiet, because the birds have flown to a country where the trees can dance & my tongue can only go as far as the border. I’m nothing short of tragedy, so I drink myself to stupor. My memories are alcoholic & melancholic. . . . The post <a href=" first appeared on <a href="