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Feb 2020
I don't write anything
Unless I have to
And even then I hold myself to ridiculous standards
Every word must be an opus
Every line must touch some place deep
My mind falters at every step
******* journal entries are written for an invisible eye
Nothing is enough for human consumption
Not this
Not anything after
It all melts in my hand
And seeps back into my body
Words never said
Dissociation is veiled upon
A vacant face and body
Waiting to be revived
the anima sola
Written by
the anima sola  31/F/Australia
(31/F/Australia)   
207
 
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