You have my word.

Words have power: that must count for something.

The stars are brave in the black. I am too.

At 5:42 pm, through the grit of forgiving the week, the radio blares on my behalf. Strength is not a commodity these days – save what you have. Just because you are louder, does not mean you will be hurt less.

At 6:25 pm, in the smog of an angry city, the sun bleeds a colour I cannot. On a mountaintop we bargain – a trading of expression and only one of us will leave unburdened. It’s not the same. Even the view has changed.

At 6:58 pm, as monstrous night begins to wake, the sky threatens a darkness I already know. You cannot scare someone with something that is already a part of them. The stars are brave in the black. I am too.

At 8:37 pm, in the cold of thought, the silence holds all the secrets I need to hear. If I talk, they are gone – questions bind my lips shut in case the quiet speaks. You can never know the weight of words until they are said.

At 9:00 pm, flooded with sedative moonlight, the pull of home ebbs and flows. It is not a place to go, it has come to mean much more than that. The ground beckons to begin rebuilding. I ask, what must be done with all the rubble?

There are sink holes in my chest

I have breathed so deeply there are sink holes in my chest. I am falling into myself, coming apart in this void. I have pushed out so much air from my throat that it is no longer possible to exist here.

I am suspended between gravity, and ground I have not hit yet. I have disappeared with no warning where before I held up strong and sturdy. I crumble and I am gone. I am everywhere and nothing all at once. Emptiness taking up space never looked more possible than this.

They do not know that it was rock bottom to start with. Now craters exist where there used to be faith – deeper than indents, deeper than meteorites can dig into earth. I am a black hole within myself, sinking but still breathing… so deeply that there are sink holes in my chest.

I cried today and let a part of myself go

I cried today. The kind of tears you can’t stop. Not the violent kind that forces their way up your throat and through your eyes, but the kind that take their time to leak and let loose slowly. I cried today in a moment that was so overwhelming and so all-encompassing that the only response I could extend was to let a part of myself go.

I cried today, but not for the reason you might think. I was sat in a pivotal presentation to a client, pitching for a momentous television campaign. We had the concept scripted and storyboarded and presented in a way that would be convincing.

Without warning, I had a Stendhal experience in the middle of it all. He penned his encounter like this:

“my head thrown back, i let my gaze dwell on the ceiling, i underwent the profoundest experience of ecstasy i have ever encountered. i had attained that supreme degree of sensibility where the divine intimations of art merge with the impassioned sensuality of emotion. i long for those rare moments when i shiver with the rush of altered consciousness. in an ephemeral blast of time’s breath, it’s like the universe reveals itself and there is a mutual recognition of all things. but as quick as it manifests it slams shut its window, only leaving the essence like some intoxicating perfume that remains after someone has left the room.”

The power of concept, the standard of writing, the phenomenal application of art culminated in the most moving presentation of art. I was so in awe, so profoundly struck by the treasure it is to be able to create. I am not one to be pretentious or promulgate superfluously about moments like this; my response was not contrived.

I cried today. I sat in the back row of an auditorium and cried the kind of tears that can’t be stopped, and I didn’t care one bit. I cried because it was so overwhelming and all-encompassing that the only response I could extend was to let a part of myself go.

In the event that you lose a part of yourself

that which is

cannot unstitch


remove from

it here is part

and whole

and all without

cannot be



pulled a part

for lack

not want is

lacking unfinished

pieces which


be undone


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