Category

Poetry
          My mind is in turmoil, There’s a weight on my chest. I lie in bed all day, but I get no rest. The things I used to do with relative ease, Now terrify me and make me freeze. When I close my eyes, I’ll never be free, Demons and devils...
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  She put it away with her innermost treasures, folded, linen-like in the dark chest of empty scent bottles and mothballs. She stepped outside. If the warmth wasn’t there, she would pretend it. The anger was red, a furious glow, but all her life, she swallowed it in place of all else, the dainty canapés...
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