Forms

The truth can be hard, but without the truth there is only death. We must speak, for us and for those who can no longer speak.

 

It’s like a poison which infests your brain, 

Infects your name.

Screams, claws, punches and maims.

Impossible to tame.

The taste of vomit, is the only thing on which I can comment.

It’s the only thing that lingers on, when family dread speaking to you, and friends have moved on.

It’s as if I don’t know how I have got here, and yet it’s so crystal clear.

What happens to your brain and your behavior

When trauma and pain are allowed to steer.

 

I wish I had been in a war, so that people could understand,

It's not just soldiers, with blood on their hands.