Rantings and Ravings of a Not Yet Lunatic

Emily Wolff

I don’t hear voices       there is only one voice 

it is my voice 


my voice spoken aloud 

—how else am I to fill the silences— 

as they say     it is only worrisome when I start answering back 

    I haven’t          of course 


these are only my soliloquies 

—to be, or not to be—  

or well I wonder what has come of my life               will this be all forever 

—am I to run and hide when my subconscious rears its ugly head— 

   maybe              now I am supposed to worry 

but I haven’t any more room for worry 

I could put it next to fear        no wait            next to stress 

oh—that won’t do 

insomnia and hypersomnia already reside there  

it’s much too late                 to worry anyways  

I have but one option that is just as damning but I must 

    reset                 no            escape from reality  

—to sleep, perchance to dream— 

Contributor's Note

Emily Wolff is in her first year of graduate school studying for her MA in Literature. She plans to finish her MA before going on to receive a PhD with hopes of contributing to a brighter tomorrow. Her love for books is what created her love for writing, and she wants to use her love for writing to inspire the world. She has come to find that it is therapeutic to express herself through poetry.