Haunted House (a poem)

There’s been trauma in this house

we thought it’d be our forever home

instead, ghosts lurk here

ghosts of murders, suicides

they followed us long after we

left cob-webbed hallways –

the trauma here makes us see things

hallucinations, delusions of despair

we can’t escape it.

(Photo by Stefan Ringler on Unsplash)

Instability (a poem)

The end is closer than we think,

the wild-eyed prophet says.

He, who has spent time in psych wards,

sees visions of hellfire at corner stores.

What are these images of demons and flashes of inspiration?

Continue reading