She came to buy herself a brand-new face. It seemed too dear. A frock would have to do. That got her in a fitting room where she became psychotic. Was it the light? Her skin? That
She came to buy herself a brand-new face. It seemed too dear. A frock would have to do. That got her in a fitting room where she became psychotic. Was it the light? Her skin? That
A book? From cover to cover? I lack the strength. Even poetry – just thinking about it – exhausts me now. I’ve overdosed on poems, stare blindly at the pages of my books. For
