A woman staring at a wall
Holds heartships, big time worry
No memory on Wednesdays
Her equilibriums all tired out
She wears and tears the seeds of a woman
She’s been staring at that wall damn near my whole life
Endless
Embracing the illusion of racing
Catch me pacing
Evaporating within myself
Only help I need comes from fallen leaves and remembered stolen ancestors
Who’ve found themselves floating in the endless air
I have no fear
Never scared
June 27, 2021
I placed a glass of water on my alter and prayed. This weekend without a phone. Silence. Mindfulness. Sadness. I finished the book X borrowed me “Celestine Prophecy”. It left me open and searching.
Right now I am numb, asexual, emotionally unavailable, confident, sure of myself and my experience. Validating this period. I feel as long as I can see my growth no matter how seemingly inconsequential. I have to temporarily cut off X and X for my sanity. It honestly just hurts to be disrespected from them both to the degree that they do. In retrospect life is great.
Woman
I love being a women.
Everything about it.
Blood, burnings and birth.
Airy, soft.
Pure fire and magic.
Preference
The fool
In me
There’s a peasant in me
More tame
Domesticated
A puppeteer, my sweet labrinyth
From her I get my strength
Hard steps
Most prized possessions
My sorry little secrets
I think I’m in love pt.3
Natural disaster
After the storm
He cries
Having no honor in his display
So she lays around lighting sage like it’s a cigarette
He sweats now not understanding
He likes to talk
She likes to walk
She pretends she doesn’t feel his stutters
And he denies she knows where he comes from
Not knowing himself from the outside
He is
A natural disaster
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
Freegrandmaa 