Late night insomnia in la ciudad that never sleeps is a gift. I slip between the dusk, waltzing weaving between hum of streetlamp. Twirling in shadows and embellishing myself in […]
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The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged
Late night insomnia in la ciudad that never sleeps is a gift. I slip between the dusk, waltzing weaving between hum of streetlamp. Twirling in shadows and embellishing myself in […]
Read moreThe needle pricks my skin and I gasp as I shake out my hand. A little speck of red blood lands on the grey flooring. I take my towel and […]
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