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mental health, poetry

Neck Deep Nightmare


Madness is hidden in depths of mind, not seated at Starbucks with a latte and laptop, inviting sweet situation.

The raw and rough remains of what lies left instructs me to tear at tight clothes, take off restrictions, and wear a loose facade.

We move like ghosts, cascading over sidewalks, unable to touch solid.

If I look into eyes, distrust and worry spill across an everyday gaze.  You know me.  I am the one who makes you uncomfortable.

For you, I would scrape my mind to make it easy.  Easy for you to see me.

About missyrogers

Lifelong Michigander, early 40s, craft addict, chihuahua collector, coffee drinker, recovering human being, bipolar I, electronic music lover, bullshit caller, 5' tall, my blood is organic, and I refuse to be anything else. I will write until I die.


3 thoughts on “Neck Deep Nightmare

  1. So incredibly powerful. Thank you.

    Posted by Karen | September 12, 2018, 11:03 pm
  2. I really like your poem; you have a way with words. Thank you

    Posted by revolutionarymusings | September 16, 2018, 7:52 pm

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Queen of the bad haircuts with coffee for blood.

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