Fight or Flight Freeze and fawn. Those are the other two. I rarely fight. I have been known to run away. I only freeze when it locks me in a reverie.  But to fawn, over and over, is why I am here now.  Run, stop, drop and lay.  It’s in the stillness between, I remember. …

My exhaustion  looks like bending over  in the rain on a warm spring day Picking up cigarette butts from the fall, before the snow fell, when he was still alive. Lucky strikes.  It’s like hearing an old song that you used to love, and finding socks that aren’t yours in the dryer just returned to…

I’ve been everywhere, all at once. The bottom of my mother’s grave,  looking up. I wonder what peace she found. I can smell my own flesh rot in dreams.  In my childhood, I saw the devil and signed his book. I can go to Turkey, or Greece. If you close your eyes, and picture it …