SPEAKING MY TRUTH THROUGH THE WRITTEN WORD
I’m raging out of my skin Jumpy, electric nonsense, and yet Convulsing with unwanted sobs Holding, suppressing, denying The impotence that scares me more Than any tangible threat. My belly clenches up, bracing Attempting feeble containment Of the demon churning deep within. She demands compensation, flesh Payment for that which was ripped away A child’s... Continue Reading →
The arrhythmia of my heart Explains it all. Not here to hate Or love singly But embrace the whole damn world. My heart skips a beat Do you look up? Do you see? With your entire being Not those insufficient eyes Alone. But with all Do you? Don’t miss a second It could always be... Continue Reading →
Look at me So even-tempered these days Fearful that my inner peace Might poach my creativity But is that such a blemish If I remain alive To feel the breeze on my skin For another cycle? Creativity need not be born From despair. I eschew that tired narrative. That stereotypical trope. What good are creative... Continue Reading →
In the crevasses Womb space Fingers, fists of ancestors Clutching Demanding attention A space at my table Remember Remember us Remember yourself The you that existed Before they numbed Your instincts Your moon cycles Your wild wisdom In the name Of sensibility Their palms outstretched Grasping, pleading Convulsing in my belly Reclaim the power Passed... Continue Reading →
Am I a sociopath? Or just traumatized? Do I really care either way? I like what I like I want what I want I know what I know Would knowing the origin Of what, who, why I am Change anything Or would it only make me feel Wrong For being what, who, why I am?... Continue Reading →
AMY HORTON 