SPEAKING MY TRUTH THROUGH THE WRITTEN WORD
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 →
I trust nothing anymore. No one. Myself least of all. My history is less than reliable, and my instincts clouded by years of traumatic response. Why should I believe anything that I interpret to be true? I’m eternally hopeful, wretchedly searching, begging for the scraps of love that any careless encounter might accidentally offer. It... Continue Reading →
Hello, sweet soul. I know that you feel lost and confused on this journey we call life. You look around you and everyone else seems to know what they want. You tried on a few ideas because they sounded good, but nothing ever sticks. None of it satisfies you. And yet, despite your unwillingness to... Continue Reading →
The. Stories. Are. Lies. You are worthy. You are beautiful. You are so incredibly lovable. There is not another person like you in the entire world.
AMY HORTON 