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Imogen Yeomans

III.

Who can help me now?   I have fed your saintly light my body over and over, till it becomes so bright it blocks out the sun. But soon the artifacts of me, my life, have run dry and there is neither you or the sun I scorned for its apathetic distance.   You have […]


II.

II.

I do not want to die, I only want to vanish for a little while   (I do not want to be left alone (Please do n t let me be alone) ).   Aren’t you ashamed that you’re giving up on yourself? This is not what giving up looks like, I am not squandering […]


I.

I refuse to see myself refracted by you gaze any longer. I forgot what had even drawn me to bask in it in the first place. You efface me humiliate me, Always. (separating me from what I hold dear; you call it elitist, trivial, make me feel like it hurts you that I have hobbies, […]


On Not Writing and Self Hatred

As banal as it sounds, I have honestly forgotten how hard writing can be. In all honesty, the past few months have been unduly harsh on my psyche and have seemed to see me far removed me from an emotionally connected self. This has left me wondering how I am meant to write about a […]


Chapter One (In which I actually write something)

So funnily enough I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this play I’m meant to be writing, and getting stressed because I only know about film. The question being of course, how do I use what I know and not just write a never ending conversation. I immediately missed my highly visual filmmakers toolbox but got […]