I roll the finest joints in the land (including my ankles).
30 | Arts&Crafts | Queer&Disabled | Storytelling
I roll the finest joints in the land (including my ankles).
How do you get out of a hostile ableist job situation when that situation has you so fried and drained every day that you have no energy to even look?
Maybe one day the eagle will lose it's taste for liver, and the sun will rise on scarred skin instead of wounds.