Internal pain

a constant constriction

positioned where I cannot see

where I cannot know

completely

which leades to hyper-awareness, constant thought

and question focused inward

I feel week

I feel confused

I am sensitive

and vulnerable.

I want so badly to curl up

yet I am restricted to my right side.

I wonder what is festering of growing inside of me,

cells forming,

impossible life?

Bacteria, pain

In this moment I do not feel whole

let me say that the physical pain is not excruciating or unbearable but the mental effects are deafening.

Soil Sun and Sleep are my Holy Words

A whispered rush of blows

echo

wind          blown   tissue paper petals

dissolve is swelling

eddies

this is my keeping of time

where the

unraveling of

lace

measures my months

(I adore that line)

and the forming of rigid ribs tells me that spring is near,

as is the diminishing of my locks.

A body of liquid aged to amber, that never slept

yet smelled of dusk

a seeker of sanctuary

now the lengths between where you are and where I stand

is the whisper of wind

letting what remains

be flame

and a quenching sea

How I became a moan

a hinged open jaw that is neither a sigh nor a scream

yet yields veins to loop

bodies to conform

to choke

to rise

lengthening the nape of my neck, lifting chin

to let the pedestal of ideal images falter

thrashing them in the acids of my plump stomack

I am embers, fed by the ashes of the weak minds:

should and ideal 

*** This is a work in progress