
The Art of Becoming Sacred Matter


∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆

My deep breaths fuel my heart
Just one more night
After another
What a chore
A force of nature
To be here
To stay
To feel everything
A life of suffering—
I thrive off that shit
Like a brutal winter
My heart is raw and unfiltered
I dove deep to see her
The sacred red
Of the swallowed sea
She’ll find me
Begging
On plastered knees
She just wants to be safe
Satiated
Saved
I’ve perished
They told me so
A few times
I’m tongue tied
A thing in the undercurrent
A hole in one
When I woke I was thirsty
An insatiable existence
I know I’ll be punished
I know it’s a sin
She was in search of a sign
A whisper, all knowing
As she laid, nuzzled in piles of his pillows and her sheets
Flooded with fire and fragile words
Every language, she thought
For once she could move with the world
That she could return to speaking sparrows and true crows feet would emerge from her soil
That her nurture was enough
Stormy nights brings fragility for the house of her soul
And so she sleeps a tranquil night

To submerge yourself into solitude
Walking side by side dear reflection
I reflect and ponder every inch of my vessel
Who. Are. You.
Who is this skin, this blood, this thought.
That decision.