This passage from my memoir "Cult Child" discusses a near-death experience I had when I was five years old.
I know grieving is for the ones left behind, but I gotta get the pain out, bro and right now, I can only cry it out like I used to, pouring it out in small novella text convos.
Collage Book by Vennie Kocsis Collage art is a medium which I feel most in harmony with. For me, it’s akin to throwing runes and letting the story emerge on its own. I picked up some outdated pocket planners from Half Price Books to up-cycle into new books. Below is a time-lapse video of my … Continue reading “I’m Kind Of a Big Deal: We’re Talking Cover-up”
Skeletons remain in the spaces beneath the pain. My brain becomes a seismograph of moving timelines and opportunities to rewind. I enter the dark caverns armed. This is no place for charm or niceties. This is a war to be fought by a single army. I am one with what was formed. I go quiet … Continue reading Skeletons Remain
In battle, small platoons take hold positions. Their leaders converse and strategize. It is neither a battle they plan to fight nor a war they wish to start. It will be a complete conquering, and this must be a smooth sweep. Such things are not decided upon quickly. Every angle is inspected thoroughly and repeatedly. … Continue reading The Birth of Death
Child, they said, this hurts me
More than it hurts you. No.
I can be like a hound dog, occasionally distracted by attractive scents, sniffing successfully until something redirects me.
How does Dissociation work? Is it okay to Dissociate? What happens during Dissociation? So many questions are posed toward the phenomena of trauma Dissociation.
by Vennie Kocsis I don't quite understand these constant holidays, dedicated to moms and dads and bunnies and love. I see them as marketing scams, a way to boost economy almost every month, by throwing in a Holiday. But hey, maybe I'm bitter. On these days I am reminded of my absent mother. See, not … Continue reading Motherless On Mother’s Day
There are people who learn to trust the streets. I think of their lives, how they have made darkness their day and daylight their night so they can stay alive. Where is the safe space when the alleys are teeming with the unloved at night, ravaged by the anger in their souls, screaming out their … Continue reading Around My City She Sleeps
Writing cleanses the soul, and you don't have to be a writer to do it.