Sinking (a poem)

I didn’t realize I was sinking

‘til I ended up in the psych ward –

red stitches on a woman’s neck

she looks like a scarecrow

she sliced her own throat

to make the torment end

I was sinking

(Photo by Mishal Ibrahim 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?

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