The Beginning of the End of Involuntary Treatment
In this moment, I end involuntary treatment. I’m no longer compelled to treat a mental illness I never believed in anyway. But I sought healing, nonetheless. For now, I stop
Being Present
In this moment, I’m in a good space. I feel peaceful, relaxed, and content. I listen to my body. I notice I’m thirsty, so I drink a glass of water. The water replaces m
Speak To Me
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 tur
Swallowed by the sun
I stand at the crossroads. I’m 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
Dark Process
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
Voice of Intent
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