Traffic is normal, everyday. And yet you, Dad, still have your anxieties, Your irrational neurosis that you take out on everybody else in the car

You were just like a snow cone. You were an illusion A delicious, toxic illusion.

A short poem about feeling alone.

Some days it feels like my mind is a haunted house...

My body is a castle. Because like a castle, you never look at it without wanting to conquer it.