Raw
I don’t feel so raw anymore.
I don’t feel so raw.
I don’t feel so.
I don’t feel.
I don’t.
I.
.
I don’t feel so raw anymore.
I don’t feel so raw.
I don’t feel so.
I don’t feel.
I don’t.
I.
.
How am I? It’s pain like I cannot even begin to articulate. So much that I’m numb. A thick sheet of plastic over a boiling cauldron of black, festering poison. That’s me.
I went back to my alma mater, this time as faculty. It brought me even more lessons. Back to school is always learning.
Unlike everything else, the heart gets hungrier, the more it is fed. No wait, that describes the brain too. Well, my brain and my heart.
Kiran Nagarkar’s legacy is making me ponder questions of dignity.
A poem of delirium when the pain has transcended escape.
“No day is safe from news of you” – Sylvia Plath
Each day is a minefield to navigate.