I I heard from a rumor that I am ahead I am my shadow, sleeping still in bed My voice not distinct, barely a whisper instead Severed at the root, gutted, I’m in red Dying a flower, curling in the sunlight with dread.
Posted on 03/05/2026 by EraOfLightWith loving greetings from all souls at this station, this is Matthew. Thank you for the many “welcome back” sentiments sent to my mother. Most emails also included questions and comments, and we shall begin with…