Done Being Done

Done Being Done
You’re done with your feelings. Their heavy, fickle winds hiss in your casing. They blow your shell til it breaks. They wax and wane. You feel thin, weak, cracked. Chapped and raw. You’re done with your home. It was beautiful, warm. The light pooled, reflected, compounded. It’s too light. Too bright. White hot. The foundation breaks. Walls crack and peel. Heat razes higher and higher, spewing black rot as it pulls to the ground. You’re done with your friends. They chirp and they chirrup. They flit and they flap. Their shadows dart and jump and they sing to the sun a tiresome refrain. [...] Continue reading

Hannah’s Mother


Hannah’s hands were warm. Too warm. They were ruining the shortbread dough. “Mom?” Hannah sighed and smacked her palms in frustration. […]

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