This book, so far, has been one of the hardest things that I’ve written. In so many tears that have laid on the canvas of my creation; so many pools of self-doubt that I had to separate out of my mind; so many heartaches that have turn me into the poet that utilizes the anguish for his art, in expressing another side of himself, this book for me is my medicine. I made the title a part of what I thought I’ve become— with the transitioning of my father and both the grandmothers on my mother and father’s side, my dog in 2017, and with the heartaches, love in a European value system—can bring.
In the Heart of an Illusion is more than just a love story, but the story of life, death, and rebirth into a becoming that is more suitable for me. It’s the pain I experienced as a child finally surfacing in the poem “And then Another Victim Was Found” and “Yesterday’s False Promises Are with the Sins of the Father,” just to name a few. My childhood was great, but I am still a human, and sometimes, I am unable to articulate my sadness, so here I go.