YOU ARE NOT ALONE - A companion online community discussion board for The Mental Illness Happy Hour podcast with Paul Gilmartin

I see your face

and the pit in my stomach becomes

an abyss

filled with shit left behind from

the geese that have taken over

this rural, Midwest town.

I used to see rainbows radiating

from the white collars of the Hanes t-shirts you wore,

but now all I see is the green of vomited up baby food

and the reddish-brown of

a shit taken after eating Indian food.

Because shit is the only way

to truly describe

your soul. It has replaced your compassion

with foul, ancient, muddy, rotting, vile

shit.

Beautiful, just beautiful. I can almost smell the shit here in southern Wisco.