Trigger Warning: Child Abuse I have sent my own story submission to an upcoming book series focused on helping other abuse survivors. I felt the need to capture the images in poetic form. What you are about to read is the poem birthed from that effort.
There are millions of me and we all want to feast at the same rotting flesh that the bacteria in the plasma has opened up for us. I’m hungry and I know I will not live for long if I can’t eat the flesh. Desperate. I try and heave myself farther as I crawl over ...
A comfy orange armchair sits under a poorly painted character of the long-dead Lewis Carroll Though this isn’t the place for White rabbits, there have been swirling Cups of Tea sat upon tables, with chipping paint Some obscure, easy listening tune from the 90s is playing softly, it struggles with the hum of fluorescent lights I ...