Skywriting

A notebook with a winged unicorn rearing up in front of a rainbow on the cover.

I consider

that long lonely plank

where I can feel

better for a time

emotionless

cut off

a trancelike peace

that is not peace.

That hell on a high dive.

In my journal

the dark churning

words and drawings

come up and out in one sour mass.

I write my wounds

until my wrist is sore

and as the dark, festering

basement memories

are unchained,

released,

set loose on paper

the power they wield

shrivels in the light.

Four writing utensils. A number two pencil with an eraser, a pencil with a troll doll stuck on the eraser end, a pencil with a fluffy ball on the eraser end, and a fountain pen.