Experimental Poetry: A Stained Cortex
Pick at an unhealing scab. Forget why I’m even mad. It’s just me and the fear. I’m a black sheep.
Read MoreA mixed-race Brit writing about a mix of things.
Pick at an unhealing scab. Forget why I’m even mad. It’s just me and the fear. I’m a black sheep.
Read MoreMy steps grow shorter. A cloak of snow longer than my imagination can muster weighs upon weary bones.
Read MoreIn solitude
Self-love can manifest as
Stockholm syndrome
We are but cobwebsInside a plundered palaceForeign to our hostDrifting on midnight’s zephyrDying to remain instilled
Read MorePanic stationsThe conductor’s missingAnd this train’s gone off the railsPupils in dilationNo light, just chemicalExhale Lost to temptationScrambled informationInhale A Bullet punctures the basionSanity’s cost of livingMental hangnailTorn offBreathing fails
Read MoreGrief is a trickster, an emotional succubus in the guise of an elegant belle encouraging you to stay with her for a moment, to feed her your hurt. Catharsis for the soul transforms into codependency. She is the head of Algol, unable to survive without you, and so you continue to wane, living in her […]
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