fragments

I’ve come to realise that free verse, dark poetry is my go-to place when things are tough. I’ve written a lot of poetry over the last couple of weeks, and it’s been dark. I first noticed myself retreating to this place of creativity when I was a teenager. It was the first time I really began writing. And I did it because I was desperately unhappy, and I needed an outlet.

Over the years, it’s always worked out this way. Free verse just seems to flow more—well—freely when I’m depressed.

So, with that said, here is today’s offering:

 

secrets transmitted through
silence,
morse code in static;

tap

tap

stomp

insanity seeds sprout shoots,
instil doubts, and
truth—
that toothless, old man
with brandy-breath—
morphs into eggshells and
glass

fragments of memories—
sharp, vicious—
shatter, then dissolve;
taking with them what’s left of my
m

i

n

d

there are moments within these
stills of life that
p  a  u  s  e
long enough
for me to catch their truth …

how do i change this cassette which
l o o p s
my brain’s membrane?
how do i
stop
the voice who torments me?

fatigue violates my bones;
tearing down walls of ligaments and muscles,
draining blood.

i’m barely here

my fingernails are
starting to ache and
letting go
would be
so

e

a

s

y