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Disabled Dreamer

Author: Nicole Kinzel

  • Tools, Dreams, and Other Things

    Humans are great at creating tools. Digging themselves into and out of problems. Every single one carries a great bag. Some work and some don’t. Those that function and those that are broken. Carried around as a memento to past issues solved. A personal trophy just for you to look at. Maybe it is not…

  • Slip Poem

    I’m afraid I have had a slip. Slipped right over the lip. The lip I built for myself to protect from the worst. I never thought I would need more. Ending up on my back staring at where I just was. I have been here before and will be here again. Climbing back up is…

  • Brain in a Box Poem

    Ah, it is pretty quiet, you know? Being a brain in a box can be cozy. Sure, rarely it can be loud. The beeps and chimes of necessary intervention. That is temporary. The rest of the time, you can hear the world. Living out of a box means less insulation. The quiet parts of the…

  • Looking for a Specific Poem?

    If you cannot find a specific piece, it has been moved to the retired published section! None have been deleted and preserved in their entirety.

  • To Hope Poem

    It was a lot wasn’t it? All you have been through so far. Would you do it over again? Lived out the same trials without change. Or maybe you would navigate issues differently. Logic says you probably would. *** Hope is not always logical. I have had dreams where it is very obviously the end…

  • Serious Dreams Poem

    There is only one way to fight serious demons. You need to come up with serious dreams. Healing fire to counter all that burns. Pressure washing the grime away to expose the cracks. That is where the demons hide after all. They scurry into the darkest place around and take root. Claiming that area as…

  • The Day the Sky Bled Poem

    One day the sky bled. That was all it took. It dripped into her turned up eye. Contaminated by a higher purpose. Driven by a freedom that was never hers. The dull gossip over glasses of red wine no longer enough. Possessed by a life so much bigger than her own. She became more than…

  • Ceiling Light

    It drives me mad, you know? The way that the light flickers in the office. But then again, this house has always been mad in itself. Too full or too empty of what the heart needs. Always drought or flood. How is one even expected to breathe in that type of environment? The ceiling light…

  • I Spy Poem

    I spy my favorite thing. No, I don’t see it just yet. I always seem to lose it or it morphs into something else. Lost among the lids of my best tea set or in between the chocolate chips at the ice cream shop. Sometimes large enough to decorate castle walls and other times microscopically…

  • Laws of Dictation Poem

    I need more than verbal. Action to show sincerity. The follow through instead of quick passing. For I know the laws of dictation better than most. What comes from the mouth does not necessarily reflect the sayer. Holes of self hidden by the unspoken filter. Crafted specifically for the target. What they yearn to hear.…