Published in the 2014 issue of the Eclectic literary magazine. I’m naked to the waist. God is the just the harlot that I left behind in room 166. This morning she offered breakfast; I wanted no part of it. Last time her grainy grits tasted like anxiety. I left my faith along with yesterday’s clothing… Continue reading deserted.
Some things are better left unsaid, but I’ve always been the type to say what’s on my mind. Ever since the day my grandma scolded me, “Speak up or be spoken for.” Yet somehow, I let you speak for me for too long; I let you set the pace; I let you determine the tempo.… Continue reading the truth is _________.