No witness

I trusted you yet now my sleep is haunted by chemical smells of the washroom floor, the last imprint of consciousness on my sleepy mind mother always warned about the kindness of strangers offering pretty colors in crystal goblets, warned to drink from the tap and not from lust my torn underwear pay homage to her cries, my innocence shredded and sore, your smile and cologne linger, to mock me, my shame a guarantee of silence

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

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