In my repeating dreams of the birthday party, you are strung upside down from the protruding branch of a gigantic elm, gently swinging by the noose wrapped tight ‘round your bleeding ankles. Weeping with solemnity, the wide pain-awakened eyes in your head splashes tears down over the exposed bruises of beaten boarding house tenants left for dead on the ground below you. All of them are crying too, with running candles lit in their gouged eye sockets, while a mumble carries on the wind of the happy birthday song. I can’t help but want to run.
Photography:CORPSE ON PUMPKINModel: SISTER THYME
Thank you.
