your black dahlia
a dark blooming for love, god, the body, the sin, and the softness that survives it all.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 2
- Latest publication
- Sep 27, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 26, 2026
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spread your legs, wrap your body—and pray (opens the original)
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i don’t pray anymore, it’s hard to believe that god is real anymore—i talk to the sky and it is empty and so are the responses that come from it, some people pray for the rain to come as they die of thirst—i am drowning in it—in unheard prayers and unheard desire that doesn’t come to fruition in a world where i feel held captive by the bounds of uncertainty.i close my eyes and wake up somewhere old again; the building i grew up in, geographically, canada, but as of right now it’s an occupied for
after the angel loses her wings (opens the original)
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the angel doesn’t lose her wings all at once, nor is a single brutal human to blame for the fallen angel. the angel slowly loses her wings—feather by feather. as she does, she still believes she’s flying, that some part of her still might be pure enough and worthy of love—of mother, father and god.she wasn’t just young in age—she was young in the feeling of being able to fly, like a child who believes everyone will treat a gift as a gift—she keeps trying to find love in places where people only
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