When did you last experience a vulnerability hangover for speaking up about something? You know, that hot feeling of shame coursing through your head, chest and gut after you were
As I engage in my creative practice as an emerging artist and as someone who knows madness, I ask myself: What drives me? What is creativity all about? A book on my shelf promises
When will my writing speak? The head is a haven for thoughts to swell and break at the shore. Storms may crash about, but the tide is always at push and pull beneath. I turn in the
Written March 2020 Are you at home with the pandemic? I am sitting at home during lockdown writing about my experiences with madness, and the crisis of this pandemic feels familiar
I stand at the crossroads. I am in sodden ground. I cannot be shifted to fertile soil. The decay has set in. How does a man marry such sunken existence? How does he care about this
First I think a thought. It is a shadow at dusk. Rarely is it the sun’s clear light. So I write the shadow. I put a full stop. I sit and wait for light. Nothing. I am used to not
I do not know myself. This bone house acts without thinking, like a chicken running with its head cut off. I brandish my sword, stab others, and feel remorse. I do not learn from m
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