Dysmorphic

See here this reclamation A simple lie; a completed circle That I dare not see In this state, is arbitrary Wash my hands in the bathroom Look down look down Feet like lead weights, clamped to the spot This black skin is not my sin Voices unheard in the innermost din We stand in perpetual…

On The Inside, Baby, It’s True

Recently, the more I speak to people – some new and some I’ve known a while – the more I hear about feelings of varying degrees of depression and anxiety. And when I scroll down things like Facebook feeds, I feel it too. Understandably, we use such mediums to reflect a version of ourselves that…

Notions of Self

She didn’t like what she saw when she looked at her own image, but she hadn’t always felt that way. Once upon a time she was free. Everyone was. Free to just be, without a barrage of comparison and inadequacy pummelling us in the face with every wave of a finger. The foul image of…