Tuesday, September 13, 2022

Void by Skaja Evens

The place of darkness, just past the edge.
It scares so many to think of it.

I live there.

I stand outside my life.
Like a stranger.
I’m a reflection of what I see in this world.
A mirror.

I don’t intentionally attempt to go the wrong way.
Maybe I do.
When I’m trying to make a point.

I try to cry it away
Or cut it away
Or poison it to death.
But someone dies in my place.
I start the action and pass the cup.
I understand more than most people think I do.
I have to.
To help the people who live in the void with me, but can’t handle it yet.

There are few like me.
I prefer it that way.
This world can not do what the edge does:
Let me be myself.
When I can do that, I can touch those who would become lost.
I become immortal.




Skaja Evens is a writer and artist living in Southeast Virginia. She runs It Takes All Kinds, a litzine published by Mōtus Audāx Press. She’s also been published with Spillwords Press and The Dope Fiend Daily. She can often be found listening to music, considering the impossible, and enjoying her cats’ antics.




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