Vessels
My body,
my body
a temporary home
Mere skin and bones
I tense with passiveness
Aware of my control
Underneath the surface I have yet to understand
My mind keeps secrets that my body yearns to know
Tumble and toss
my stomach aches
I am more yours than mine
Would you agree?
Reality exists in another's mind
Can I be shallow and pry?
Soft whispers command my movement
words I'll never comprehend
To be digestible and palatable
Strawberries and creme
Leftovers in the fridge now reside in a waste bin
My love said he'd leave me if I cut my hair
How naive of me to think that you love me
Lust fed your desires,
something for you to grab while I arched my back
To declare my femininity,
exalt masculinity that poisoned your mind
your mind
Elements
The morning dew stuck on my pants
laid upon the grass
3 strangers,
2 blankets,
1 moon
A coyote wanders through cacti as the sun breaks the sky
Hanging on trees, balloons scattered and sprinkled
forgotten party favors
Weightless, forever floating
"Frank? Where are you Frank?"
Gone just as he's appeared
Asleep with wide eyes,
remains of capsules poured on the table.
Heaviness of my eyes now lifted, remains vision without clarity
Burdened with the idle truth of being weightless
010
With my head down I make my way to the back of the room. Regardless of the time, a mass of bodies always filling the space. On a lonely mission I’ve convinced myself I stored anger that should be released. Inhale, exhale - I send my energy forward and feel my pinky's joints collide with the leather bag. My own pain hurt me again. Bodies around me still throwing jabs and hooks, I undress my hands. The breadth of yellow fabric fall to my feet. With devotion I lay the fabric around my knuckles, my pointer and thumb hold as I pull and wrap. Layers form around my knuckles resembling the inside of a puff pastry.
-
Drops of water trickle down my face. Eyes closed, my mouth parts but not a sound made. Meanwhile voices louder than my own, taking up space I timidly share. Water falls into my eye, its salt contents convinced me I've cried. The heat rises and steam grows heavy so I let my towel slip to my waist. My chest falls and my head starts to empty. With every breath I lose more of my body. Inhale, exhale - there goes my skin. Inhale, exhale - there goes my muscles. Inhale, exhale - sending away cartilage and tendons. I am free. Becoming one with the steam, my mind swirls and clings to the ceiling. I'll evaporate soon. A woman chanting vowels in harmonies sees right through where my body would be.
Homage
Black and white tiles induce me,
in a state of trance
An organism pulses and grows,
smoke bellows as I grip what separates me and -
Could it be?
My body seizes
as my mind takes every path
leading to a stranger that is never you
Allure me to a walking sleep
Pleasure and pain,
love and hate,
What separates me and you
Could it be?
One in the same
implicit unity,
explicit duality
good, bad & the truth
I position myself in front of the fire, too close and slightly uncomfortable feels just right. If I could live inside the gas and flames I would, just to feel warmth. My body always feels slightly under temperature of 98.6, though I've been told otherwise by those I chose to share a bed with. Maybe that's the reason I feel drawn to the flames. The discomfort and I get along well.
My eyes dry as I inch closer to the heat. Extremities remind me I'm alive. I do prefer the heat over the cold, as its frigidness limits one to enclosed layers. In the heat you can lie naked and free. It was written in the stars as I was born,
"A fire sign who chases freedom”
Can you chase freedom or just protect it?
Chasing implies whatever you're running towards is moving away from you.
I want my freedom to long for me, want me as I desire it.
-
It's been months since we've spoken. Six to be exact. The last time we made it to two before I began to contrive fallacies in my mind that I'd never meet anyone like you. Grateful for hindsight, I realize it wasn't you that I wasn't longing for, it could have been anyone honestly. I don't say that because of pride, that disappeared the first time I went back to you when it should've been the last. I missed my play dates with toxicity, never knowing the games and anticipating the surprise. How can it be a surprise if I'm always left feeling the same.... not knowing and you were full of unknowns. I depended on the uncertainty.
Dipping my toes in occasionally, persuading myself to be vulnerable. A torn heart wide open. Convincing myself a love that's sure, stable, would rescue me from drowning in the shallow end. Children sit and splash around. I'm approached with fascination I sadly couldn't offer in return. Just as I start enjoying a conversation they kill it with a kiss. Intimacy can't be created in a moment, but in the generation of scrolling and swiping to find endless options and attractions, I often feel as if I'm on borrowed time with anyone I'm interested in. I strangely savor each moment, as if I have no regard for self respect.
Pretty girls with passions radiate love, so it's easy to believe you've fallen. I know I'm passionate but pretty doesn't mean to me what it matters to you. If you hear the word enough you start to believe it. Five years of actions that led me to believe otherwise still leave me questioning how pretty. Beauty does not equate honesty nor does it propel forthright intentions of minds of men (not all men, I hold hope). My heart and values what I know to be true - not good, not bad, but true. Pretty: an ultimate subjective. Objective beauty is easy when you remain on the surface. Depth eradicates impartial attractiveness and once exposed it becomes difficult to see otherwise.
Are we not as much our worst as our best?
Nobody knows you at your best, your worst is reserved for select moments of truth. I am at the will of my belief that what you're capable of doing at your worst is where your true morals lie.
Who are you when the ones you claim to love are nowhere around?
Life - just a culmination of perspectives.
Everything is nothing,
nothing is everything.