In this corner, I will build a paper castle.
Cut knights and kings out of construction paper and cardboard, Build a moat of duct tape, And barricade myself from the rest of the world. In this corner, I’ll rebuild. Let me apologize for the wars I unfairly won, Let me give back stolen farmland, Repent for my sins in this stagnant, empty palace. Allow me my odes, epithets, pleas -- Let me shout into this wind, it’s all I have. The curtains are billowing, a seashell white, An embroidered love letter -- They are full of ghosts with whom I am yet to make peace. My ghosts, I love you, I miss you, I owe you —-- These barricades, dears - they’re yours, they’re ours. let this be the site of their ruin.
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journal entriessome poems, some prose, some in-between Archives
October 2020
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