Hot Pot Magazine

By V.M. Doubt

My condition was called complex PTSD.  

It’s grief holding shattered time in place.   

I am a prisoner’s helpless rattling of the barred windows, desperately observing the prohibited
world outside.   

I am a library with shelves absent of books, the faint text visible on a blizzard of carelessly
shredded pages.  

I am an unremembered corner of a dusty room, the furniture shrouded with crisp white
sheets.

I am an abused animal, quivering at the slightest of movements, whimpering and gnashing
exposed teeth at the hand that feeds. 

I am the weight of the tense scent hanging in the air the moments before an explosion.  

My mind is the pieces of a vase shattered time and time again, merged with glue. 

It’s a living death. 

(This is not a technical description as listed in the DSM.)

V.M. Doubt (she/they) is a Scottish poet currently based in Toronto, Canada.  They have been writing poetry for twenty years and studied English Literature at Glasgow University.  They are committed to bringing their perspective of arriving late to their authentic identity, living with neurodiversity and recovering from trauma to their poetic work.  Follow them on Twitter @vmdoubt and Instagram @vmdoubt.