What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

Hidden underneath the fiction (Dear Shadwick 5)

H

Call me manic, man, and I’ll show you what prowling panic looks like, pawing, growling, claws hooked in beneath the skin, sunk and shook, blood under the clothes, I wonder what my father would think to know I spend so much time bleeding, bleeding, bending beaten breaths into a recognizable shape while the heated drip drip drip runs thick down my chest, this is not what a man is meant to be, this broken wasted leaking thing, frantic and fleeing, fighting back only vomit and tears, see, for some, fear is nothing worse than a flesh wound, the manly truth written large and bold in steel-cold jaw, out there for all to see, but here, well, the next line appears to be missing, the author having fled, or having bled out, or having instead decided to finally give in and melt into warm fleshy goo, please watch your step as you pass by and kindly avert your eyes if you wouldn’t mind
I became a man, nobody ever told me what a man was
ac

(Inspiration and title from “Pressure” by Quiet Hollers)

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What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

About Andrew.

Andrew Cartwright grew up in Indianapolis, IN, but has lived over the years in such places as Denver, CO; Fairfax, VA; and Rivne, Ukraine. He is a former nonfiction editor for both Indiana Review and phoebe; he has also worked for the intersectional feminist journal, So To Speak, and the national literary magazine, Electric Literature. His work has appeared in The Normal School Online, Copper Nickel, Esquire Ukraine, Literary Hub, and Word Riot.

For more information about me and links to other writing, visit my author page at cartwriter.com

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