A Ballad of suicide letters “When the soul suffers too much, it develops a taste for misfortune.”  ― Albert Camus, The First Man  I had twenty in my pocket, ten in my veins, and one in my heart. Happiness was another taste. I was an absurdist at heart. I knew nothing made sense. Nothing amounted … Continue reading Bereft


The first time I was touched I didn’t know what it meant I knew I knew It was something wrong A storm through a broken Wind chime An old rhyme The second time I was touched I knew the word “molestation” I knew I knew The most dangerous words in the dictionary Were “uncle”, “cousin” … Continue reading Virginal


You rest your fingertip on the first button. Rest it on its lips tearing it open with a violence with a force not yet known to you the second one wilts in fear but your fingers scream unrelenting the countdown begins by the time you reach the last life has taken another meaning a car … Continue reading Buttons