by Adonis Diaz When your doctor tells you “It’s time to get back on an antidepressant” You begin to wonder What you did wrong You begin to ask yourself If you can remember a time Where you felt joy Or simply okay You wonder if there was ever a time that you didn’t hear a hollow symphony Of…
By Matthew Corsi A survival rate does not exist this morning.The wind levies her threat my God, what a mess.A coral reef of death swarms the sky, veins entwined, a single unit of red plushcreates a landscape of rush. Everywhere, everywhere, it becomesthe unit of fatigue. Life is Done for.