This entire experience for recovery has felt like a dream.
Not desirable but interesting enough if you had to go through it.
But suddenly, it's felt like a nightmare,
the tables turning and I'm on my last legs.
I felt a rush of Organization for life.
Almost normal, but limited,
less and less each and each day.
I woke up from a coma from the beginning,
A) I'm still in a coma
B) I'm dead and stuck in Hell
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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...
