My body was seated in my soul under blacklight- bound to analysis though I could bare no judgement as I sit and spin for aural opium. I had pictured a panorama of my trauma as an infernal, despicable whole. I made myself sick to purge my past as illness. To forget my incapabilities, I was lenient on rediscovery. But I could not forget the urgency of my depressive, sadist-sucking nature, I was raised a defensive. Having fallen for an acid casualty- I was mindsick & hallucination dependant, picturing all our visions as prophetic. Realizing as a patient, I was only … Continue reading “The Void Blues” by Harley Claes