Category Archives: On Depression

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Autumn

I walked through the falling leaves and tasted the crisp fog and the maple air I ran my fingers over frost stone over spider rope over field lace and sky I did not miss you. I twisted braids of dough … Continue reading

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She is Drowning

She is drowning (I said) The water closing over her head over her fingertips She is drowning (I said) but the words were lost in the water She was me (I said) No tags for this post.

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I worry sometimes

They’ll figure out what I’m doing — or, worse yet, that they already have, and now I’m a ticking time bomb of my own making, painstakingly created, impossible to defuse. What happens when I die? Everything I have ever loved … Continue reading

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Untitled

Death by a thousand papercuts, the careless finality of words where gestures would be far more appreciated, even if futile. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be thrown away so easily, unnoticed, without mattering? You’re a … Continue reading

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Servant

You who bore the tattoo, who bore the blood, who carried the mark, who carried the light. You who could not lay down because the quest was not yet finished. You who held the lightning; you who sang the void. … Continue reading

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3 Responses to Servant

  1. rienan says:

    I love the imagery. I also resonate with the rest now, more to come. <3

  2. Lovely, visceral quality.

    “You who ate of the bitter fruit,
    and knew it was good,
    and knew it was yours.”

    Put me in mind of one of my favorites by Stephen Crane:

    In the Desert

    In the desert
    I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
    Who, squatting upon the ground,
    Held his heart in his hands,
    And ate of it.
    I said, “Is it good, friend?”
    “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

    “But I like it
    “Because it is bitter,
    “And because it is my heart.”

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