Henry Owen Phillips3Her eyes were my emerald chains. But they cannot hold me here. As they knew me, I was weak. That is what they wanted. I was their project……Nov 27, 2016Nov 27, 2016
Henry Owen Phillips2I have long thought it wise to inscribe to you a history of my life upon this weathered paper. Like a musty voice exhaling a warning…Nov 4, 2016Nov 4, 2016
Henry Owen Phillips1This is the story of my death — and yet not mine at all. Perhaps it was merely the unraveling of my mortal coils. These stocks of flesh and…Oct 31, 2016Oct 31, 2016