Tag: writing

on isolation.

Truth be told, this is not my first experience with social isolation. Though at the time, it wasn’t mandated by the state due to a nationwide pandemic. In fact, it was business as usual for everyone but me. I reason this might be why… Continue Reading “on isolation.”

Ideations and the Infinite Sadness

Ideations and the Infinite Sadness TRIGGER WARNING – Suicidal Ideations I’m in the passenger seat of the truck, gazing out the window, as it pops up in my mind. It feels like a craving for ice cream or pizza. Or a daydream about someplace… Continue Reading “Ideations and the Infinite Sadness”

Big Bad Wolf

Big Bad Wolf At 12 years old, I was tall enough to position myself between my bed and the door, pushing my feet against its metal frame and jamming my shoulders in, using my upper body as a human barricade. I wasn’t permitted to… Continue Reading “Big Bad Wolf”

ghost.

I am a bag of bones Time took its toll She spits the seeds I’ve sown Then swallows my soul There’s empty space under my suit of skin She wears my face But I didn’t let her in Do they know she’s here? This… Continue Reading “ghost.”

the cart before the horse.

For years, I would try to tell my dad that our thoughts affect everything. This was only after I realized just how obvious the truth of that statement was. He held such a negative outlook on life for so long, that I could barely… Continue Reading “the cart before the horse.”

doubt.

On doubt and what it does to us all… __________________________________ The thief of happiness, our thoughts you invade A sickness of the mind, you fester there You resist positive thought, an infection that spreads Swallow our hearts whole, you are insatiable Leave an emptiness,… Continue Reading “doubt.”

home.

  The weight of past loves lost and old lives left lingering bear heavy load on a listless heart leave little room to feel anything than lonely. A radioactive heart enters rams open doors labeled restricted removes cobwebs from a ramshackle soul revives a… Continue Reading “home.”

stone hands.

he’s got these hands made of stone beneath lies the dust of her bones jagged from the glass he’s thrown blood bags laden in units unknown too late to atone

helium.

A love that lifts me up, chemical element, noble, atomic number 2. Floats me to the stars, weightless, his love, it’s like Helium. He.

formication.

The walls, they’re caving in I sit idle, center of room Folded up inside my mind Origami swan in a flesh tomb The heart, its drumming wild I sit idle, center of sin Beating the rhythm of my past Cardiac arrest in a cage… Continue Reading “formication.”