Micah Park Biffle

The Bone Girl     I hear whispers in the night as I lay my head to rest. I assure you I am not ill, I am not mad in the mind or body. Quiet whispers I tell you, tickle gently upon the canals of my ears before each rest at midnight. Like wisps of wind through an empty hall.   But oddly, I fear them not but I am quite gripped in confusion. As if lost in a room of mirrors, I am finding no exit. But I do not allow my lost mind to be wild. I keep my wits about me as I lay myself to rest.       What these whispers say I do not know. They are foreign in tongue, or so I think. I reach out to my doctor, he gives me no advice but to take pills to help me rest. He states, "It may be your lack of well rest. Often the mind will become delusional if not sufficiently resting."   I take his offer of pills and yet, I still hear the somber voices that trickle from the air. I am not mad I tell you, I swear. There is no delusion of m...

                                                                    Suicide Forest What you are about to read is an event I so dearly wish was a dream, but unfortunate it was an unfortunate event I unfolded upon myself.      I decided to travel to the suicide forest. Why, I am not sure and am still not sure. But something drew me too it. Picture after picture I studied with great detail. Examining every spec of each photo as if there was a clue to saving myself from a deathly illness.    Each body that hangs has a uniqueness, each their own sadness; grief. If you stare long enough you can almost feel their spirit weeping. It is as if they are still alive, trapped in the echoes of time. Atoms circling, but lost, corrupted in an early death.    Like the deletion of...