The happier I am, the less I write. Happiness is dumb, and dead. I prefer feeling the weight of mind, body, and soul crushing meaning in my bones. I will bear the burden, and scratch it out of me so that others don’t have to. I am, after all, not alone with this disease.

Let me roll a black river onto dry beds of organic mash. Scribble and scrawl. Hatch meaning with my sword as I plunge it deep into the folds of your heart.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: