by Casey Grooten
This is it.
This land, the raspberry garden,
The twig that held it all up-
The me that held you up.
A mean spirit is someone that
tricks other people into buying pizza,
asks mom and dad if we can sleep there for a month,
threesomes, fucking old men for money,
and giving it away
to the casino.
He is the reason I go to therapy for PTSD.
He is the reason I am a sex trafficking statistic.
He is the reason post punk basement shows are too loud and
Bars are too crowded and
Every single open wound over three stories is an escape.
Fly, forget, lose track of time, all of their lips are moving
But in my head I hear the scream of my anxiety when
It feels neglected.
She woke up from a bad dream,
The man stands over her bed,
Sharp intake of breath, but
He’s already jumped out of the window.
About the Author
Casey L Grooten is a nonbinary writer and visual artist living Kalamazoo, Michigan. Casey strives to portray an open and affirming worldview through all their work.