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Sorry, Tulsa


I woke her in her sleep. East coast hours.

Damn Cat feeder screams her name. I mispeak.

Damn Cat feeder shouts his name.

I thought the Devil had arrived.

Or am I?

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Published by: her mourning coffee

Walking a fine line between genius and insanity. My words are raw, sometimes visceral, and vulgar.  I write to settle my thoughts.  I have triggers that extract emotional immaturity, deep- rooted fears, anger, insecurity, vulnerability, yet I heal with every stroke of the pen.  I might be that monster.  I sometimes scare myself.  Please keep this in mind as you read.  I do not wish to provoke you, though stories need to be told. *not all posts are in real time

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