A prose poem written in the isolation of delirium.
27.4
stability is for
anyone who wants to believe in
certainty
This is a prose poem written in the isolation of delirium.
Or the delirium of isolation.
Same difference.
I tell you that I am rising and falling but really I am just hoping to break
free
I like words because they are Clever and I have Imposter Syndrome.
word vomiting something other than
beauty
I like pain because it can be beautiful only when it is fleeting (unless you’re a real masochist).
anger
gutteral
this is just part of the process
healing
feeling
pages to believe in
saintly mornings
depraved evenings
all the things I love, made flesh
all the things I love, without regret
all the things I love, with tenderness
for
you can take my art but
you can’t take my heart
away from me
The past is but memories / the future, imaginary
just beating
just breathing
softly.