
Held like something holy, by something holy


∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆

You toke hold of each finger
Making promises
Saying prayers
Void of faith
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
The heavens of womanhood.
Revelations of my souls essence.
Emerging ashes saturated in a deliciously delicate black hole of grit.
You know, the usual.
And you?
When you spend enough time alone you realize
Your fight
The fights you fight; every fight in the world
Starts within
(Home)
Is within
(Heart)
Personal sin
(Hands)
Where to begin
(Head)
In those deep brown eyes, a foreign language
I found a reflection of myself
A dance of identities intertwined
Our bloodline meeting in a strangers glance
Both captive and captivated
We read our stories, our selves, together