a voice is freedom

The Beast Roared

Sometimes I get the very sad sensation that there are no words to say. Like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, madness beneath me, its’ hot breath pressing in around me, rushing in one ear and out the other with whispers of my life’s failures and futility. I can feel the weight ofContinue reading “The Beast Roared”

The doorstep.

I’ve cried until my eyes are burning and swollen. I don’t write when I’m happy. I don’t write when the sunlight makes circles around my baby boy’s curly crown like a halo, or when my oldest laughs from deep in his chest, like some music the entire earth comes alive for – I don’t writeContinue reading “The doorstep.”


I have hardly been able to function today. Visions, images, memories of my father flood my mind and I can’t escape them. I can’t escape them. They make me want to die, to crawl out of my skin and scratch my way out of this world just to escape the pain. I smoke a cigarContinue reading “Violence”


My brother died six years ago. I lit some incense tonight and I’ve watched it swirl and swirl and disappear, like his face, his voice, my memories. The thought makes me hate the smoke, and I hate the correlation I’ve just made. He will never be dead to me. Sometimes I have dreams, and IContinue reading “Smoke.”

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