There’s an ancient sort of darkness that can be witnessed when you wake up when you aren’t supposed to. Within its benevolence resides a cooing wind that brushes against your wings. Within that, a sunset horizon stuck between wake and slumber where the body and mind are separate entities. They murmur to each other like broken & old friends from childhood that contemplates sex. Execution, though, is an entirely different continent. Instead, there exists the sensation of a cold blade that yields you. So when you open your eyes, it feels like they’re still closed and slowly seeps in an unpleasant awareness that you’ll never be as happy as you are in your memory.
Excerpt from the series.
Published in the zine - Brown Bodies by The Rights Collective in their 6th Issue, exploring Brown Bodies in their multitudes.
