Category: trauma
-
Toybox
My mind is a wrecked toy I don’t know where to go with that Trembling hands cupped around it We rock forth and back Singing and sighing Wordless admonitions Begging reparations From parents absent as the gods davidmpitchford 12/16/2025
-
Song for Her Majesty the Ex
We were legendary, dear, doubt it never King and queen of fourteen-liners and verse Time moves on, yet in the reflection of that moment Printed in books with our names . . . we were great How was it we lost admiration for each other? Competition? No. Complication. Life Got in our way of living.…
-
Reading Joy
How sad it is that half a century I have walked briskly with impatience past my own story. . . Where I have no loathing for it, I find mostly passive contempt. Failure. Loveless hubris overriding whatever achievement felt too little to mark, insubstantial like my self as during each beating my mother and step…
Fringemonkey Scribbles 