Topic

Jung at Heart

Where the subconscious refuses to stay quiet. This is the space for dreams that demand attention, symbols that defy logic (until they don’t), and reflections that balance self-critique with self-discovery. A place where poetry dares to play at psychoanalysis—and fails spectacularly.

Calibrating/Leaping

We were both born into wallpaper that refused to repeat. He: briefly the brightest thing in the room – not meant to last the evening. She: kept an alembic for grief, distilled the air for bitterness, bottled the residue, for special occasions. At night, I followed the maps drawn in moth

I Knew It Wasn’t Ours

We bought it again, though no one had asked me. The car was waiting under a streetlamp, its paint too blue, kept somewhere too clean for memory. You said it was the same one. I nodded, but something in its face had changed – too smooth, forgetting how to age. We

Shattered Glass

I set the table for a feast that never was, laid out silverware of hope, glasses brimming with almosts, candles flickering in a draft I should have sensed. I invited certainty, but it declined – sent regret instead, draped in my brother’s voice, in the darkness of doors that will

Dreams of my Dogs

I dreamed last night of impossible births, grey feathers shifting to fur, chirps dancing beneath a strange oak table. My two – Sig and Doof – lying there, old eyes glistening with the weight of years, straining to give me their young. Yet only strange half-creatures came. I whispered to them, just