Space.

I want that space
where I won't be judged
where I won't be rushed.
I want that space
where I can lay back
or get fired up.
There are wonders
that can't be made nor planned,
but to be witnessed & protected
from the ones who like to possess,
who impose order over what
they don't even understand.
I want life & death
under the stars & sky.
I want that space, again.

Cry baby.

I backed myself into a corner, didn’t I?
My body secretes fluid I think it wants sex,
but I’m not up to any human contact.
Seeking another form of release, so I cry.
Serves me right for standing up & reaching wide.
Those of you who know what you are doing,
how does it feel to be relaxed & watch it rolling?
Tried a drink then audible decompressing,
watched a thing, thought about where I’ve been.
It’s never-ending, the pursuit of escaping.
Why does it feel like I just ran outta my favorite moment?
When it’s open, it won’t be contained.
Gave it a name and off a cliff it went.
I’m tired, tired of tired, don’t know what I’m seeing.
Many things that are so shiny & worth grabbing.
Further & further away from a heart that’s hiding.
Is it good? Is it bad? Still weak? Is it a wrap?
Realizations don’t bring relief, another challenge.
That’s why we help each other & not point fingers.
No ups, no downs, we’re all just hovering.
And hovering.

The Thing that Hates Me is You.

You said I stared at you while I suckled your breast.
I imagine the little bundle just detected an existential threat.
Since you’ve ever looked at me with dread,
like I’m the source of all your woes.
You said you wished I was a boy instead,
and compared me to my male cousins as something less.
So I am less, I am full of woes & I don’t exist.
The voice that inside me telling me I can never be
a real person because I was unwanted by you
who said so, then after I became useful repaying a debt.
I don’t know. Why I’m here if my mother does not want me here.
Why I always try too hard, or not enough. Where is the battle?
The shaky ground keeps disappearing underneath.
Where do I grapple. the kindness I don’t trust?
It’s exhausting, mother, the pursuit of your love & approval.
Nothing else can fill it up & it’s past the time
for a band-aid and a kiss-up. I don’t need it any more.
I can’t feel it any more. No, not really. It’s been gone
too early for too long. If I can’t have a mother’s love
where does the suffering begin & where does it end?

Get outta bed.

Shrieks of grackles pierce my brain
in the middle of awakeness & dream.
The cooing of the doves lure me back to sleep.
The time is told by the hands of the machine.

Reflecting on things I was unwilling to face
when the consciousness’ with shield & sticks.
Still the blood gets pumping no longer at peace,
distracted by the soft & cooling sheets.

Time to get up & fight to stupefaction
then floating back to the clouds of purfection.
They turn sour if dwelling for too long
like everything else, getting up now.

We sweep the earth.

We sweep the earth.
Our backs bend towards the heavens.
The moist from our lips
giving thanks to the land.

We sweep the earth
to comfort the spirits of the dead.
The feathers in our hairs,
we & the spirits are one.

We sweep the earth
when it’s angry & the rivers weep.
Forgive our sins.
We are your children.

We sweep the earth.
It’s time to sleep & to wake.
We sweep the earth
for another splendid day.

Nonsensical.

It comes as a phrase
then it flows from there.
I do not beckon thee.
They come to me fully formed.
It’s like I pluck them outta thin air.
But that’s a lie.
I had them in my head
just waiting for the right time
when I’m free of pretense.
Words comes and goes.
They might as well be
nonsensical.