I’ve asked myself, prostrated on this throne of all the memories of the times I’ve cursed my own name, to what it means to even exist. The courses of hatred run so deep within myself, and yet it is this final rejection that makes me fear none; the stone that casts the largest shadow avoidsContinue reading “Shameless”

Rotted Clover: A Take on Dissociation

I am rotten clover, too dark of a green in the field of colors happy as spring.  For all that I am, curled to some pathetic degree, offer very little to the scenes of people dotting the trail of my life. Their judgments dot the memories of my brain, like holes in cheese, acid throughContinue reading “Rotted Clover: A Take on Dissociation”