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spoiled milk streams down my throat swallowing sin‘s of mortal aevum eternal youth the holy gift of christ enigmatic and iridescent flesh entangled in a black widow‘s web lullaby’s of tender glass shards lurking to thrust in r
i have descended into madness of a madmen words spilling out like fresh blood soul fragments trapped in limbo russian white winter nights ribcage teared wide open a maze of despair unfolding death creeps up in intertwined vines sprouting spl
When memories haunt you and linger like ghosts, leaving only invisible bruises, they echo into new ones. Growing up in foster care creates such ghosts. This project offers a glimpse behind the veil of growing up between neglect, control and the failu

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