Migrating Persecuted Intersectional Identities

  My lips are parched. Like my self. Oozing with a shy blood. .   Brutal shears trim blisters inside my head with a slow hand. . I retreat t...

Trees are happy here, in the Owen Sound Rocks are happy here, Pallid-blue, pitch-black skies are both happy here Roads, inside the city, and the count...

There’s a swift shift of the sheets on the bed in the other room . There’s been a heavy allquiet allnight in the other room . There’re footsteps...

پوست آهو کشیده به تن Nude Standing, slanted, erect, like trees teasing the wind His unbraided hair linger on shoulderblades, nude he h...

I love you fuck the lute with gentle fingers   Rub in the lute the seed the song You love the lute with gentle fingers I love you rock the lute in yo...