∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆
I miss being comfortable in my body. Every mourning I wake to discomfort and nausea that can last hours.
I miss wine. I miss being able to eat and not eat whenever as I pleased. This baby is taking away my freedom. I am a slave to my baby.
By choice with trust of course though.
It’s now
It’s the end
Old friends
Oh Lord
I’m a feathery thing
Unmotivated to motivated hues of humanity
My goal is sanity, real sanity
Blasphemous sanity
Pregnant and maybies now dont forget me
You remember my tosses and turns how I always never learned
Where you count your blessings and let things go
Baby don’t forget me
I’ll always know
Trying to remember how to forgive and be grateful to those who have caused me harm. They are my greatest teachers, though I pray for more gentle lessons, which I ensure by trying my best to learn and trust my intuition the first time. I will always choose peace, love, and safe spaces. I get it when they say “hate is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die”. I’ve drank that poison. I’m drinking it now, and also healing and actively retraining my brain to stop. It’s an irritating process that requires accountability and moral. Sometimes my ego tries to convince me to match energy. Don’t get me wrong I feel my real feelings and express. but when you know better, you do better, can’t sit in it for too long or it’ll consume you. I used to not mind being consumed, but it gets old when life goes on and you realize suffering is inevitable. Part of life, nature, balance. I vow to not be one of those hurt people that hurts people. Compassion is something one must continue to cultivate. It is a wisdom that contributes to a more positive community…. And now I remember.
“Be the change you wish to see in the world”- Ghandi
Bless I am on finger spawn
Electric trenches bathing my cervical
Back and fold I’m a circus; locomotive
Freedom brings Casanova, baby mothers, and virgin wings
Spirals of the world most foul
Dancing wolves who often howl
Woman body don’t give a fuck about that shit
Young self holds the messenger
Hidden burdens are turned to birds and
We learn to hold our sticks and stones and
We fold to break our own arms leading the way to pave
Make ends meet with woman’s meat
What a dog that eats dog girls
Woman’s bodies don’t give a fuck about rocking a foreign world
Key whispers from chosen Gods in dress
Remembering
Sometimes I catch a scent; smell something, and I remember having roommates for the first time. My own room. I used to paint my naked vessel and rejoice in what I thought was adulthood. Silly naive me.
Sometimes I hear a song. It takes me back. I feel my belly drop to my toes as my tear ducts instinctively fills up, releasing the sight of my being… In the psychiatric unit having a time. I’ve never felt so safe, so understood. I will never forget my time in X.
All the beautiful lost souls I met and loved. I pray they too found themselves again. My baby, I was so young. I used to feel so sad. I am free from all of that. Hurt, pain. I am sending love to my inner child always.
Freegrandmaa 