M. Stephens Hall INFJ
M. Stephens Hall is the author of The Other Boy, a memoir about navigating his son's brain tumor and special needs as a sensitive, intuitive father. He is an INFJ, a father of three, and a technology professional who has spent decades processing the world by writing it down. Ink & Gravity is where that processing takes the form of poetry — compressed, imagistic, and unafraid of the dark. The work here is spare by design. Every word is load-bearing. He believes some truths are too precise for prose. Poetry is what's left when everything unnecessary has been stripped away. What remains is the weight of the thing itself. Some things leave a permanent mark. This is where those things live.

Toxic Lindane

You met me at a time when I wasn’t me. So I don’t blame you for your decree. It’s just… I’m a person, much more than a flea. I’m not

Queen of My Head

Another soul with pain, in real life. Full of hardships, scars, and a lot of strife. But in my head you have been anointed. You run the show. You call the

Cycle of Deceit

For nearly a year now, I’ve been dealing internally with the fallout from three very painful relationships that were lost or never materialized or whatever. I’ve been in a vicious

Napalm Feels

I wept like a child. When I found out. That horses were bound. To a finite space. Given rules. But stripped of grace.   A shadow cast. A line not

Don’t Just Be

Be other worldly. Bounce to the beat of your own drum. Be in the atmosphere. Know it’s going in. Be the bear that snags the salmon. Patiently. Bravely. Calmly. Hungry

These Clones

Like a dying planet, my heart aches. Pounding, indescribably, words don’t exist. My intuition is rendered useless. And appears when my thoughts are, at present, committed. These clones pursue me.

Rusted Soon

In my head. This greatness is dead. It’s gone from me. How can that be? They’re 11, 9, and 7. But I’m in a place. Where they’ve all gone away.

Jungle Mouse

If I can’t attack the night. With delightful fright. And you in sight. Then who am I but a mouse. In Laos. Running to my jungle house.   If I

Sweet In The Morning

You’re sweet like honey in the morning When the day starts with fire Kids up early and the cell phone alarming   You’re exhausted at night As you lie down

I Carried Her Pain

I carried her pain like a sack of grain. A hand-off of sorts. Like in a football game.   I carried her pain like my favorite meal. Refusing to eat.

Queen

She stalked me telepathically. Over bedded tracks of leaves. She clutched my every being. As she reached out from a tree. Her stiff-arm paralyzed me. Like a barrier made of

Cargo Train

In every ounce of pain. There’s an opportunity. To throw aboard the train. That which needs to leave you. Call it a cleansing. Call it release. But when that something

Broken

Broken, I see you Hurting, I feel you Always wanted to be you You are alive   Broken Broken Down   Never understood it But now I get it So

Wet Dog

You’re not allowed to speak. Go on about your day. You sick freak! I’m gonna make you pay. Your forgiveness I seek. What did I say? As I let out

Murderous Mirage

Caught in this snare of irritation and anguish. Mirages of freedom close in on me. Thirsty, I reach out to the catalyst of my every breathe. I crash back down

Black Desert

I’m stranded. In this desert of black. Where I can usually see, now I see nothing. All the emotions are dried up and cracked. A life full of pain shoots

We Don’t Let Go

I’m looking ahead I see so much I’m drowning in data I’m out of touch I’m floating above I’m watching myself You see my pain You’re quite confused You’re reaction

We Finally Meet

My mind is the battleground. War wages on between my imagination and reality. Strike, counter strike. We never rest. I’m awaken to images in my mind, being flipped through like

Illusion of Freedom

My heart felt relief But it was only a coup Many months ago What could I do? She sent me away to never return But made no sense as I

The Prison She Chose

As I inquired about the emotional state of his wife, I was taken aback by his response. “She gets upset, making comparisons to what others have. Don’t let it bother

Monkey Business

My mind is not here. Monkey business all the time. My emotions turn sad. I’m trapped in my mind. Is the pressure barometric? The shock feels electric. Or is it

I Know Her

When I saw her I paused Because I knew her I didn’t know her from the past The future is where we crossed paths The way the light attached to

A Dark Intuition

Intuition has been defined as a thing that one knows or considers likely from instinctive feeling rather than conscious reasoning. As an INFJ, my dominant introverted intuition (Ni) often gives me

Hurt Track

The agony returned. Face down in the dirt. Someone hit repeat. On my track of hurt. Nowhere to be. No one cared. Nothing is left. Just memories and despair. I