my mind is a prison

I sit

Here in a plume of smoke

Waiting for the sensation of nothing and everything at the same time

Waiting for something to reach me

Somewhere far away

Most times it comes I get scared and turn away

Trying not to listen, to not feel.

Why do I write

Who will listen

Who would want to

One day I will post

One day I won’t be afraid to be raw



A Mature Naughty Girl

My life in truth. A journal to myself and anyone who will listen.