Seven Yellow Pins Through the Skull of a Dove

She loved to get lost in those films. The colours, strange music, grainy texture of black-gloved hands pressing into smooth bare flesh. The bright, surreal flow of blood. She sat alone in her room with lights off and earbuds in, drinking in that other world. Feasting on it. That saturated, seventies otherland of vice and sin and madness, so unlike the grey little world she knew.
--Written by Alexander Saxton.
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