Bruised love letters | Ellen Rogers

Ellen Rogers

Bruised love letters

Bruised love letters

rescanbackstage4 rescanbackstage3 Bone chips your white perfect teeth. I'm waiting on wild name play, staring, staring at you. I'm glossolalia nonsense-girl, come fauna in my darkroom. Unmoving, still I drone endlessly... Strip me bare, gurgling incoherence- waiting. Hold me, press, oh shit! I love you.


I'm nothing,

I'm yours,

a tooth itching, fridge flickering perambulator.

What an honour to fuck like this. No rest in breathe, but stability and someone you'll lean on.

11 months, then you... in Poplar, by the DLR, waiting behind iron clad steel and red, red, red. I'm well, the best I've been, you bad man. I love you, in Persian and otherwise.

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