My Body’s Betrayal – a prose poem

“I have no idea what I’m talking about / I am trapped in this body and can’t get out”  — Thom Yorke An empty husk, sunk into a permanent hollow in the flannel sheet and mattress A mattress that used to be his mother’s Everything here used to belong to someone else, myself included. Perhaps not…

Good Things.

Very soon after I wrote the WWED entry, on February 18, things lined up in that magical way that sometimes happens, the way that makes me feel like the universe is letting me know I’m doing something right. It started with panic. I had a week or so left of my Ritalin preventative, no Ativan,…