this feeling inside of me, the urge
-to go forwards and grow steady roots,
-to make fire from wet rock shoot out and scream like it was waiting for that exact moment to be heard by you,
-to do it all over, the uncurling, creeping open vines of morning spoons after nights of hide and seek, down the slides, in the playgrounds where I ran, I swung, I turned in,
-to see kaleidoscopes of pink sunset stars crashing into black oblivion back and forth again, breathing like pulses inside the birth of a universe, the birth of a planet, molecule, atom, energy, being-
the feelings that I am,
that feelings that are me
are not available.
in the conundrum
between mind ticking forwards, trying to erase the inevitable
memories pricking, pulling backwards away at walls, shields, spikes and swords
revealing the chaos within:
under the body paralyzing, crippling, crumbling to a halt
towards the call
Where does my thought begin? Feelings end
upscattered in this place I call myself
that I dress and I move
I feed and I keep.
I am here
I feel everywhere else.
I used to mold me
like clay and play
with an idea or a word
that could describe inside, but
aged experience has hollowed and burnt out
and followed me down into
I do not want to feel
I do not have armor for
I do not see light in
mind pulling north and south and
bodily urges to sprint east and west
where I lay in the center trying to hold
all my pieces together from scattering
back to you.
I stretch in pain knowing
will be taller from all this.