the suffering we call life; the pain the poets call love

A memoir of pain; a soul of a man, of a boy. Seeping through the cracks of the prison cell of his dignity. But most of all, a cry for help, a place to scream into the nothingness and a place where it's okay to curse love while still loving the feeling. So follow me into the deepest cracks of my soul, brain and heart. This is the only time I will not think before speaking, I will feel as rough and devastating as it might be, this is me, this is us.