Prison Cell Paranoia (part 2)

Some bolt of madness comes from a demonic source, and I’m swirling and swirling in inner chaos. ‘He wrote this because he hates my writing.’ ‘Did she call me a narcissist using subtle, vague imagery?’ ‘Does she want me to suffer because she’s never forgiven me?’ and then this amicable, passionate man is possessed by…

Set Him Free

i lead him, hands intertwined, to the lake, tell him to drink, that he’ll be happy once more. but he won’t, self-hatred and self-destruction is as much an addiction, as pills washed down by dark liquor. addictions blur the already hazy lines, is this a craving or is this a need? will our hearts stop…