Journal Entry  9/6/2018 #2

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Men in black, together.

Do they talk about me

and lick their fingers and touch themselves?

Waiting to get me alone.

Waiting for my daddy

to bring me.

Little lamb, to the slaughter.

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Journal Entry, 9/6/2018

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The Shadow Man

There’s a shadow man

he lives in the shadows

appears; disappears

you don’t know where he is

then suddenly, silently, he’s there

and pulls you in.

 

You can’t get out

like in a nightmare when you try to wake up

you try really hard

but you can’t.

 

And no one comes to save you

because they haven’t noticed you’re gone.

No one misses you

you just disappear.

And when they think they see you

it’s not you at all

because you are gone and only a shadow remains.

 

 

 

 

PTSD the Return!

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I am being so triggered by the Philadelphia revelations.

Nightmares. Hyper-vigilance. Tremors. Dissociation. Intensified startle reflex. Insomnia. Anxiety. Irrational fears.

Not fun.

I write Letters to the Editor; I journal; I read newspapers, then wish I hadn’t. It feels strong to respond and challenge people, but it makes me more paranoid about the Church sending priests in black cars to “come and get me,” to kill me for telling their secrets.

I keep telling myself, “I am safe. I am safe.” But then I journal and don’t feel safe any more.