Flaw Salad

Consciousness comes instantly, brutally. Before you process morning or time or day of the week, you’re awash in flashes of the night. Nausea and headache amplify the shame you feel in your chest. An enormous pressure bears on your heart. It prods in rhythm with your thoughts. Slut. Homewrecker. Whore. How could you? How could you? How… — read more

I hold two hearts in my hands; cry to them, “Please save me! Please save me!”; and reject their attempts at salvation. I crawl before them to show them my tatters, and I resent their outstretched hands. I turn away and weep at my position, broken, alone on the floor. “Here is my home –… — read more