Image by by HilLesha O’Nan, David’s wife while she was visiting West Virginia. -(he/him) David L O’Nan is a writer/founder of Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Art. He has several self-published books and curator of 5 Anthologies. His work can be found on www.feversofthemind.com .   You can see his work on Anti-Heroin Chic, Icefloe Press, Cajun Mutt Press, Royal Rose Mag, Dark Marrow, Ghost City Review, Nymphs Publishing, Spillwords, Punk Noir Mag and more.  And has been a Best of the Net Nominee in 2019. Interview Continued Q4: What is your daily writing  routine? A:  Unfortunately, I’m scattered.  I go into a week with a writing plan.  That soon becomes a broken puzzle.  I have Generalized Anxiety, ADHD, OCD and it is constantly trying to fit puzzles together and getting frustrated when the pieces don’t fit.   I don’t have a daily writing routine. I am happy when I can find the time to just write anything.  Sometimes, I come up with poem titles and work around that title to come up with material.  I am usually overly busy and get work done in spurts.  I either will write 5 poems within a couple days, or go a month without writing anything.  It is all according to my energy I am able to exude at that moment.  This is how it goes with my attempts at being an editor as well.   If I don’t feel I’m doing a good job at either writing or editing I can shut down for a bit. Q5: What subjects motivate you to write? A:  Usually, if I’m listening to more music at the time it will trigger my want to write.  When I’m listening to music that triggers emotions or anger then I’m more prone to pull out more material at a quicker time.  I’m mostly motivated to write about emotional triggers and less about an object placed in front of me.  I can be inspired to write though just by looking at artwork or listening to instrumental music.   I’m an overly emotional person, so the words, stories are squeezed out of tears, laughter, shakes and kicks.    A lot of it is bottled in and I walk around either silly or grouchy and then it comes out fully in writing. Q6: How do the writers you read when you were young influence your work today? A: The writers I read while young helped me develop a rhythm in my head to write.  I don’t always punctuate perfectly, I flow thoughts out freely.  I developed metaphor and rhythm from reading song lyrics and poetry throughout the years.  I write how I think and less about structure. I’m sure that doesn’t always win any points with other writers or sometimes editors.  If I tried to perfect structure I would de-construct my own structure.  These wires take quick photographs in my head for memories to capture so I can write out the images.  In characters I create, or in my own skin. Poems from “Lost Reflections” A BRAVE HEART, A REBELLIOUS HEART I was born into a natural rebellious state of mind With a dream of a brave heart, Yet there are no fears, Mishaps, nightmares when you trip in your freewill Can I preserve my rebellion for the ultimate battle, And the patience to Bind my heart to bravery A deep breath and realizing my challenges Defeating the consequences that lay inside your fears THE SAME In your arms i’ve died a million deaths The death called love The same flowing blood from two sacred hearts The blood is unity, of love That uncomfortable juice, that mythical feeling TRANSFERRING As a dream Thunderclaps Raining sheets And blinding wind whipping through my chest Through misery, love, torture & sin The needles, of screams ripping through the indentations of my skin I’m coughing out my spirit Swimming through a tornadic spin Eyes swallowing Transferring of breath The storm kissed my mind But ripped off the head THOSE SAME WHITE WALLS Fall apart Those same white walls Crumbling little ant eyes lost looking at the melting moon Forming solid as it smacks the ground A bridge for you to walk on To creep into that moon on a virgin night That you can hide inside the silence With all the stars to chatter, gossiping As lively as greed CRACK OF THE WIND With a crack of the wind The moans bend over a shaking house A winter’s bruise is calmed by the warmth of love The healing began when the coagulation broke And the freedom of mind rested the demons, The fears, the endless end Now, there is hope in a gust of wind Instead of inevitable destruction MALINGER He came in with a strut Pulled at their heartstrings A debonair heartbreaker Tried to blend into moonlight When his legend of notoriety, disgust spread He begins to mourn, becomes a malinger Observes all the crusting flakes of a noose Watch the nervous breakdown boil & dry ENGINEER I watched your engineer yourself from peasant to prophet While spirits swarm in your beds, frost coffins People began to believe a liar, a shade A sunlight’s fade Gossip drools from your false tongue THE RAILS A middle aged hobo with no charisma He lived out of a pitch black cavern Perception that he was a civilized reality Shows a pail, penurious, insipid train The rails are slippery to traverse only from Coma to coma Shall you live to your completion dream in muddy tunnels A FLEET They destroyed all in front of me A cagey crowd demeans me I try to escape my mind Pulled back under the tow of tears I begin to fleet through circles Hitting each wall over and over again Pushed back through the walls of fears Parasitic, they are ‘till only my bones REJECTED Clouds tied together by the ropes of light The request to empty our sky made by voided hearts The famous and the damned begin to pull with all their force The powers in the heavens rejected the request Instead, they vacuumed the seeds like crumbs. TAVERN In a morning fog A blistered old genius ripped from his mind Frozen out of the flesh Stumbled out of another tavern Another burning bridge Mortality questioned The abyss wrinkles up the wisdom Spotless thoughts define the defeated The war turned crystals into bullets