Nns
@ihnnam
Branches raked dusk into ink, scrawling consonants too crooked for scripture. I parsed their wild cursives and thought: prayer isn’t polished—it’s thorn-script etched on bone, barbed serifs clawing vowels from marrow while sky gapes like an altar out of alphabet.
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longlingne
@longlongne
Into my breath, captions dragged dusk like wolves in velvet.
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