I wish I had a coffee in my hand
but the pills I’m fed won’t let me.
To sit and wish, to pray for
gods to reap the skies,
placing us at the forefront
of the Imaginary.
Osiris resides in my stomach with
a pair of horns, a set of hooves,
and reason to escape from
the mythology we created.
The ink from a ballpoint pen has seeped
into my spine.
It’s a symbol, displayed,
concave, convexed, protruding.
A pill that I take,
therefore, has little effect
on the person in the doctor’s office
sitting across from me
with a cross, displayed
on their chest.
Author: According to most, Blake is just a silly lil fella that is trying their absolute best. They think werewolves are cool, their favourite movie is Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and they have an unhealthy obsession with the Insane Clown Posse. You hear them spin their wheels at Ungrained Mag or on Instagram @_rad_boi_
Editors: Willow Ward and Hannah Vesey