my heart is a never-ending beating on the gates of a wall
a wall crafted from the tectonic plates of your identity that we call subconscious
tectonic plates that gain a thousand new fault lines every year you exist
fault lines patched together with the virus of a glue you call normal
a glue of cultural conventions that builds a crust of consciousness
a fragile crust that just barely holds in the fiery magma fury of your personality
a fury that you would spout at anyone who dares penetrate beyond the surface of your reality
and here I have arrived…
This is a story of a scar A scar from a cut A cut from a blade A blade made of words and gestures and attitudes and expressions A blade that one can never physically touch And yet this blade penetrates deeper than any weapon made of steel By some the blade is known as “Making Fun” Because they believe if it cannot spill red blood, it cannot cause true pain By some the blade is known as “Ignorance” Because they believe it is only used by those who do not know any better And still there are others that…
you are the parasite
you are in need of a host
I am the leukocyte
I am everywhere at post
I am the phage, I will consume you
I am the lymphocyte, I will attack you
I will deconstruct you to understand you
I will use a part of you to disable you
I will strengthen myself by using you
I will immunize myself against you
I am antibody, I don’t need your body
I am lysis, I don’t need your crisis
but you are clever, you waited to strike
you are retro, you appeared alike
you replicated into the…
I resolved to exist. I was pushed into this world. Small and awoken.
I resolved to move. I wiggled and rolled. I crawled. I stood. I walked.
I resolved to talk. I banged pots and pans. I found my own words.
I resolved to dance. I found music. I allowed it to move me.
I resolved to connect. I went to the garden of children. I made my first friend.
I resolved to learn. I learned letters and numbers, colors and seasons.
I resolved to read. I learned my second language. I was behind, I felt lesser.
I resolved to…
when I drive, I reach my right hand out
I reach out to the passenger seat
a habit formed years ago
when my hand sat on her thigh
a show of affection
a silly rule in my head
maybe my hand could protect her
maybe I could save her from an accident
an accident that would never happen
as if my hand could really hold back
all the dangers of the world
a decade later, my hand still reaches out now only touching cold fabric seeking a phantom limb, a phantom love a reminder of a simpler time when I…
Always feeling, sometimes writing.