MIRRORS
I’ve crawled through Mirrors Reflections Dirty and broken Bloody knees Razor thin lines Next to jagged little Shattered ice kind And I barely feel The pain of it Anymore
FOG MADE OF DIAMONDS
The fog Snuggles up Easing Into my lungs Small drops Inhaled Dew drop worlds Pretty Like diamonds But The zirconia kind Because I can’t afford To breathe in Fog Made of diamonds
CURING GOODNESS
There are darker places That reach like sticky tar For just a spark of light Hungry for the warmth For the love it threw away Jealousy rages from shadows Contagious and sharp A black bloodletting to cure The goodness inside us
DEPRESSION AS ART
This piece is titled DEPRESSION. Most of you know I started a blog over a decade ago. I didn’t realize at the time I was suffering from depression. My ex husband’s middle name was Hasty so I called it Hastywords. It was a family name I wanted to honor since the family name ended with…
HASTYWORDS 