the past sits in front of me an old, battered trunk that I drag reluctantly with me from place to place I keep it in the attic like the unwanted baggage that it is covered in cobwebs it is dusty makes me sneeze multiple padlocks and straps keep the lid securely in place opening this trunk … Continue reading Unpacking – Christine E. Ray
woke up wrong side of the bed all pins and needles and porcupine quills thunder and lightening brewing under my skin as throbbing nerves at the base of my spine spread tendrils of electricity to my fingers and toes until I want to scream my hands itching to throw the lamp at my mirrored reflection … Continue reading Shattered Mirror – Christine E. Ray
musical notes float through the air almost visible to sleep deprived eyes razor edged lyrics chosen for their bite sharp enough to penetrate ancient scar tissue that crisscrosses internal contours for every baby step forward there are two slides backwards to the place where psyche becomes blank canvas and I paint the nightmare landscapes of … Continue reading My Hit Parade – Christine E. Ray
cold small half pain half numb compressed in on myself until I am hard light cocooned in the strait jacket I spun will you enfold me in strong arms? draw me up into your body’s warmth? remind me how to breathe? guide my muscles my bones back into the shape of a woman? © 2017 … Continue reading When I am Small – Christine E. Ray
when my brain goes haywire I think I must have developed late-onset sensory integration disorder the sun burns my eyes the birds chirp their Spring songs much too loudly for me other's coffee which I usually covet overwhelms me with its roasted aroma I admire the way that liberated warm weather dresses swing down Locust … Continue reading Sensory Integration – Christine E. Ray
the room is tastefully decorated respectful distance kept between her desk near the door and the comfortable chair I selected the first time we met now unanimously understood as mine my arms fold tightly across my chest hands unconscious fists small table next to me holds Kush balls and engraved stones with reassuring words like … Continue reading Where My Ghosts Come Out to Play – Christine E. Ray
Brave & Reckless 