A Weight of its Own

I used to feel an aching sorrow
in my chest
as if every mistake I had ever
made had been piled on top
of me

and although I have since been
relieved of that weight
I do no feel light
I do not feel free
Like a soaring bird heading
to find warmth

all I feel is anticipation
for a journey to a
destination I am still
uncertain of
and that is a weight
of its own

Depersonalized

I am but a window
and my eyes only see
what they want me to see
and while your words effect this body,
this heart has very carefully shut itself away.
I watch myself live my life as a passive viewer,
an uninterested audience member
and only occasionally do I stop to question if this is reality
when I feel as if I am only a pawn in a video game,
alive but not quite living

Why I Write

I write not for pleasure

But to bare my soul

Because it is too often

That I cannot stand

To keep it inside anymore

Hyperallergic

Sensitive to Art & its Discontents

Aubrey's Arch

A Complete Circle, An Oracle’s Virtue

Thinking Moon

"I have loved the stars too fondly, to be fearful of the night."

The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby

Welcome to my world of weirdness.

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