I had a dream that I was standing in the campus equivalent of a badly stocked 7/11. The synthetic lighting and the colorful packaging swirled and lingered and danced and moved all around me. I clenched my fist, my hand moved in front of me, the only solid thing I could find. My trembling hand reached into that swirling, whirling mass and brought out a single bottle. I wasn't happy with it but it was something I've been resigned to since I realized it could drown away the demons for only a moment. I fell in love with a boy named madness. That boy, well, he holds me at night and cuddles with my broken mind. He whispered terrible things in my ear. Somehow I let myself believe they were true, that I am a terrible thing. I know why he does it. If I put back the pieces of my shattered being there won't be space for him to sleep. I fell in love with a boy named madness and he's driven me to drink.
(21 September 2016, Prose)
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An Aged, Bitter Collection of Poetry, Prose, & Papers
PoetryThere once was a sad girl, not that long ago, in a kingdom not so far away. Perhaps a glance into her somber scribbles might help you on your quest to scribble for yourself.
