There is a storm in my head, a rage that chokes me, imminent disaster that pricks the tip of my tongue. My skin is so heavy, scratchy like a blanket in the heat, filthy with the detritus of hiding inside... Continue Reading →
The darkness is swallowing me up again. I exist in a confined space, one part sadness, the other anger; sometimes the two become indistinguishable. I am a flame of rage in a freezing wind, burning and extinguished. I am a... Continue Reading →
I am over the moon to be a part of MasticadoresIndia! Huge thanks to editor Terveen Gill for bringing me into the fold of her incredible journal!
She is a tapestry of fiction,
a cloak constructed from convenient truths.
Her sentiment slithers,
a hissing whisper in my ear,
dripping in strands of insincerity
that creep down my neck.
Her memories are fabrications,
shoved into the back of her mouth
to keep the truth from coming out.
A vain attempt
at gobbling up sorrow for herself.
I stand in the shadow of grief,
eyes filling with tears,
fury pulsing in my clenched fists.
She bleats emotion,
takes possession of emptiness,
puncturing the air with the razored sting
of a woman seasoned at doling out deceit.
She forgets I was there,
when she said my father
was no longer a person,
forgets he tried to escape
the battering crunch of her insults,
as his mind grew pale,
paper thin.
I feel the anger in my teeth now,
composure stitched to my lip,
trying to break free.
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Stories From the Edge of Blindness 