A figure slumped beside the road, a heap of ash and thread. No face, no shape, just heavy cloth, and eyes that looked half-dead. “Who are you?” asked the wrinkled one, with voice both calm and kind. “I’m Sadness,” said the shape, half-formed, “the one all try to bind.” “They turn from me,” the figure said, “as if I bring disease. They smile too wide, deny the weight, pretending th...

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I still remember

Cold faces in my bedroom

Smiling women in the dark

Slicked hair, teeth sharp

I still remember

The man whose legs

Popped out from under my bed

And I screamed

Broad daylight was frightening

Heart speeding, head beating

The men who moved closer towards me

All I could do was freeze

I’d stare back

With sucked breath, shaking knees

Day afte...

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A poetic exploration of a mind poisoned by the omnipresent specters of Donald Trump and E. Musk. This piece hopefully captures the relentless mental siege and especially the detox from Trump's toxic influence. It is a vivid depiction of inner turmoil and the quest to reclaim clarity and freedom.

Each waking thought, his specter reappears,
A gaudy brute who feeds on hate and strife.
He storms ...

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