The stormy bank holiday when plans fell through so it was Scrabble and a fry up, lazy Saturday afternoon with my legs outstretched and your half of the sofa reclined, your heartbeat reverberating through the backs of my knees as you snored and I watched easy tv
creativetruthjournal: Issue one of The Creative Truth is out now! You can download a free PDF version, or support the journal by buying an even cooler print version! The print version is only £3.99 and you can get 25% off by using code AUG2016 at the checkout until 24th August! Thank you so much for…
‘easy, easy’ they say, when nothing is easy and my eye welcomes the comfort of my fingertip and says this is a pressing matter and I’ve buried myself in bricks for days hard thoughts heavy thoughts thoughts that leave no room for anything else at all and I sink and I sink and my thoughts…
Want a quick 60 second read (ish)? Here’s a little interview with me about writing poetry, inspiration, and advice. 🙂 http://www.adamlevonbrown.org/interview-with-sam-rose/
the cold glass on my wet bottom lip my top lip enveloping – and then I tip the scent stings my nostrils and my teeth welcome it head goes back a slow swallow and the roof of my mouth goes numb the taste is blunt and then nothing matters anymore. maybe I am a mess…
A stream of conciousness I just found in my notes and probably wrote at work: We write to stay afloat. I could talk to someone but I don’t even know what I would say anymore. I am no longer coherent, I have inherited something I cannot give back, in body and mind, in thought and…
Having PTSD – or anxiety, or whatever the hell this is – is like lugging a big heavy suitcase around with you all day, but it seems to be invisible to everyone else and you’re shouting at them in your head, “Why can’t you see this thing?!” But you don’t dare say it out loud…