Mental Health


The self sabotage roping you in.
How to trust in that shaky hydra of skin?
As you search through it all,
Everything you thought was love;
Horded into corners.
Pushed aside, rummage through,
When your mind can bare to touch it.
Separate the conversations,
Into more tolerable piles.

Stacked up to the ceiling;
All those long ago friends.
You behooved their art,
Spinning wonder towards
The ethereal 9 to 10.
Treasures found in medicine cabinets, borrowed hasselblad lap shots
On bedspreads, and shower curtains,
Became sudden backdrops.

His black hair tugs
At your memory strings.
Backwards in the darkroom
For the make-out session.
Only wanted you as a moving stranger.
We exposed and dramatized our Destructions.
Too much vodka weeping
And highway speeding.
But he followed you home;
To thread you into a knot
And began to call you his friend.

How many more after him?
Lowell’s alarm,”they’ll never come back.”
His firewords,
Burned it all down,
Heaps of ashes.
It was idealistic,
The origin of expectations
For them.
At last you can’t pretend.

In the morning,
You still have your asana
And a mantra to reshape and liberate; everything you’ve enslaved.
For daily shallow sighs, eventually snowballs into an avalanche.
Only your breath remains
For the restitution.

Art: Sara Willett

Words: Nara


8 thoughts on “Elasticity

  1. Mark Ryan says:

    This is so scene setting, your work has evolved into something very descriptive and entombing, nothing else matters while i read the words as i’m cocooned in that moment. ‘On bedspreads, and shower curtains, Became sudden backdrops.’ This has such a classic hold to it, reads like a novel one is forced to read at school, to touch someone’s brilliance. I’ excited by the growth in your work, and i love the artwork too…My soul feels like that sometimes.

    This post needs to be shared, and shared some more!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you! I’m so happy it’s inspiring to you. Experiences as a photo student. How to use what’s around you for an optical notion. Yes I suppose it’s setting scenes. My emotional inner eye. And I’m surprised you still see my work is growing. Lately, I’ve felt a sorta backslide emptiness and I’m grasping in the dark. I know your soul encounters these same heightened emotions. That’s why your one of my favorite poets.;)


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