There was a boy in a room. He rocked himself back and forth, crumbled into a ball in a small corner, surrounded by white walls smeared with blood. It looked like an animal had unsuccessfully attempted to claw their way out, raking their sharp nails across until its fingers bled. The blood was his. He didnât remember doing it. He didnât remember much of himself doing anything after his episodes, wh...
The rain came down in sheets the night they made something together for the first time - not just art, but a communication of chaos.
It started in their studio, a converted church in the edge of the city. Stained glass windows still watched from above, casting fractured lights across amps, wires, and canvases. The altar had been replaced with a blood red piano, its keys half-stripped, half-painte...
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