So maybe that's what death is like.
Falling asleep days on end.
Having no clue what had happened.
Survival.
You wake. But more confused than ever.
Days later finding out in a coma.
Death, you see nothing.
Death is the end of the story.
Not my story either.
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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...
