Every time I walk on a road, look at the road.
The area it comes back to me,
over and over and over again,
the same scene I dont actually remember.
Today I crossed this road.
Not a big one,
but I'm on edge at the moment for
no reason other than over thinking.
It's stupid.
I could feel it in the breeze, a memory.
The past? A different life time?
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A Journey Past Our Solar System: Poetry of a Borderline
PoetryA Journey Past Our Solar System is mostly confessional poetry of my life in the few last years, structures of a dysfunctional family, in the middle of dealing with mental illness. A tragedy in the making of my brain turning into coal, ready to burn...
