
Too Soft


∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆

What will linger when I’m gone
If time erases everything
Are some things meant to stay
I wanna leave an imprint
You’d try to forget me
But where will you ever find a ghost as haunting?
Stitched beneath your skin
A whisper in the bones
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
Smokey listeners
Reaching for the shallow limbs of black
They sink and wail to discover life
And so I remain, printed and somewhat flaky
Together, forested in fictions
I lie to myself when I stretch out of the hopeful comforts
I’m picked as bark
The dog days are quite holy; haunting
The body was muddy and dug out of void
Being, holy as well
Peer through
Identify me, then leave me to be, leave me alone
As I grow feral to the moans of cicadasÂ
I will touch the golden skies in faith
The ones I indulge in and tell stories about
I always come back to sadness
Maybe it’s a shape shifting anger
Maybe we’ve hung her; together
But it’s all I ever knew, it’s whom I make true intricate love to
I inflicted upon me paired with hesitations and soon to be’s
cause well maybe I’m human
I sink through all your deadly seas
I sort through my pieces of wool and used flannels and cloth
And I touch the human in every passerby knowing it’s never enough
I touch the heart that aches with stone burning parallels
I touch the mouths through mountains of victims as the dead sings farwells
I vow to be untouched
It’s not enough to breathe in and exhale my stomach, my liver; my heart
It’s hard enough to wake alert and dress up the rest with the earth’s hardened dirt
Soul tied to a suit and some layers that aren’t mine
But to most it’s fine, some say quite divine
I couldn’t harm a fly; I wish to kill a billion
And so
I harm the self that promises to let things go (let things sow)
Burdened by the death of each solitary season
Hands pressed in pulses pleading to be granted the sights of a hermits reason
I prayed hard on my way to work.
Feeling at home while talking to source.
Connecting to source.
One day at a time?
One choice.
One decision.
Today at work I will eat my food and drink my tea.
I’m going to dance and write.
Open me up. Recreate. Revamp.
I have some thinking to do with the woman I want to be. I am holding space for all I am in every moment. Maybe this year I’ll find my niche.
I don’t want to get sexually and romantically distracted. At the same time I don’t want to shame myself for wanting to be intimate…I want to break free from the belief that I am only desired physically. I want to also hold that men are attracted to the physical first. It’s survival. I’m mad sexually appealing, healthy, and warm to look at and so it makes sense if that’s what pulls one in. I have programming that has made me unsafe with the idea of men being attracted to my physical and being lusted after. Which is honestly unfair, unreasonable, and ridiculous. I can sense lust and genuine interest in a second.