Heavy

I want to be seen through and through

I want to have enough, never stop

There’s pauses in my membrane

I don’t recall the order of fate

How I wish it’d play out

How I pray to erase

Escaping is the back door

Unspoken

I beg my soul to be revoked and

The soul never wanted to carry me anyways

It names me a burden

Dead weight

Hips in heaps of heavy and a bit unsteady

Out

Spread out

To disappear

I’m distracted

My mind’s not near

My mind’s tuned in

Tuned out

I’m not walking forward

Spaced out

I’m a broken clock

A broken record

And I’m upside-down

Tiny glass

My lover was passive

He was made of glass and

We didn’t appear full enough

Tried making eye contact in summer trees

Seeing we weren’t meant to become lucid bees

Just tiny things playing make believe

March 12, 2017

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.

I don’t like to yell

I don’t like to yell

But I love to break the silence

To penetrate

It’s the first breath

The tip of birth

And you can’t find that kind of moment in movement and stimulation

Go silent for a moment

Svāhā!

Climax

Hands full of prana

Roar through your pores in the safest place

Feel the goodness and the horror

Accept it and become more than vessel

I don’t need to yell through pressure when I’m molded because of it

I like to whisper and pray in my head by my lonesome next to a river under a bridge or something

I don’t want anyone to hear me either, not now it’s too late now

And jokester is my middle name

I got it from my father and they got yelling from our mother

But I

I don’t like to yell