Writing

    The last time I saw Her.  It feels so much more final to say it that way, but I guess it’s the same outcome either way.  When I think about it logically, I can understand that She’s never coming

Blind the jury. Blind the voters. 

Wrap white fabric over their eyes, stuff white cotton in their ears. Make them as blind and deaf as Justice herself. 

Thunder roared in the dark night sky, lightning the only source of light. Rain fell hard onto the roof like bullets, screams of terror throughout the city.

It’s loud and rumbling, as if seething with unrestrained anger. Like a thunderstorm trapped beneath the surface of the water, desperate to break free.

like shifting shadows moving across walls and space

I constantly reflect everything and everyone

daydreamers like to envision a new world

one where every cog in the machine does its job

we get tired of being the mirror

I go to therapy and dish it all out

Everything that's too personal to tell my sister,

Everything that's too serious to tell my Mother,

I dish it all out