The hatch was opened. The light pierced down, blinding my view from the rest of my surroundings. This bottomless shelter was no longer my refuge. I began to run my hands along the smooth surface of the walls surrounding me. With both arms stretched out I could spin, touching all sides. I tediously found the groves and began grinding anchors for myself to hold onto. I fell fast, every step was a slip. I would keep my eyes locked on you to concentrate. To keep me from slipping it meant my fingertips would turn to bloody stumps to pay the price. If you had been impatient, I would still have climbed...but would have camped out on a tier I dug out for myself. But you reached down each day. You reached down just in case my hand reached up to grab yours, in case I needed help in my final ascendance.
Anonymous nature we have when our reputations can be tarnished. Our only break from humanity is to pray we have some tension to relieve. Otherwise we act out in ways only monsters do. We contort ourselves, concealing what offends. Either ourselves or ones closer than than we care to admit, will be vanquished. The forgettable nature, the undistinguished face-the reason to forget and be forgettable.
The listening hand keeps covering my ears- do you want to hear your own truth that isn’t blocked by heavy debris? To choose to listen to the strongest, most rooted, beautiful voice is maybe the best thing in my orbits capacity. Listening to whats succinctly drumming rhythmically, as if a sidekick to my heartbeat…only seems like beautiful sonnet. To accept myself exactly the way my natural state is, is accepting that changing it wouldn’t make myself better. The only tragedy isn’t listening to whats at the bottom of the abyss.
Shadows haunt the ones arching the blades in their backs apart-
forcing their heads down.
Holding their blood inside, letting the putrid clotting fill them
until their only choice is to release it,
sometimes its all drained.
It’s as if none of them have universal praise. The understanding how we feel about one another is almost more prevalent than how some feel about themselves. It may seem like a selfish act, to have it feel like its all about the individual, but that individual pressure is only from a mirror of others reflecting back from someone else's.
The dampened cloth around her mouth drips through her lips and stings her teeth. The metallic taste isn’t something she knew about. She instinctually swallows it, gulping what is hers.
Readjusting, elevating the damp cloth sticking to her skin, noticing and confused to why the dampness still lingers. Her fondness of the tepid, cooling nature it has as air flutter by…grows.
Without it her mouth would be pale, a deafening abyss, to it is her only understanding.
The cracked red clay substance is no where to be found. It has been liquified, drenching her once barren palms. Pooling at her feet, ruining and staining the floor.
She gingerly unsticks the cloth, pulling away translucent shards of skin from her lips. They formed deep grooves that now have air to heal.
She lames the soul she could never forgive. It stalks in invisible corners, waiting to be the solution. That soul is forgiveness and acceptance. It emerges taking all the light, internalizing the profundity it so craves. It sings songs of familiar lullabies that elevate the deepest regrets.
But your lightest soul is the shadow that fuels and regurgitates the unconscious stream enveloping her. She knows not to argue for this soul is forgiving, but hideous when interrupted.
She don’t know how long she hasn’t been able to move. How the drenched cloth has expanded, tightening around her wrists and ankles-extending outwards giving slack only to gain momentum to close her up, drawing herself in the body that barely exists anymore. It is so tight that she lets it suffocate her, there is nothing left for her outside of this body anyways.
The pinprick of her nail disturbs the cocoon, jutting out to break the seal. Heat begins to rush over her skin, as she continues, taking out the hardened plaster like a shell that had been digging into her bones. Speaking dust out from her hair and the bottom of her feet. She raises herself as the heat grows.
Having the capability to remove oneself from the burden of humanity can ignite or rectify moments you wish to chew.
Moments you want to continue salivating for-
moments you want to let sit and emote the most beautiful aromas-
until you swallow them.
But having your mind be apart from your present, physical body can challenge what it truly means to retain the idea of who you are. Moreover, who you want to be.
We tread this wavering water only to find the depth is too treacherous. We gaze into this abyss with longing, that ever present need to jump deeper, further downing the forever expanding darkness. To feel the need to feel the rocks and slippery clay-like earth that resides at the bottom of bodies of water.
Without ever reaching the bottom, you feel a sense of relief, knowing you don’t need to fulfill any destination in any amount of time.
In the stillness, you can now see, and pay attention to every fleck of earth every strand of plant, all passing you slowly as you let your body float down. As if an entire galaxy is floating around you.
With all the resistance and know how, the stars still receded. The shroud she had lifted off her eyes had been cast back over. She pulled it deeper until it covered over her mouth down to her throat, slowly pressing on her ability to inhale. She wanted to be shrouded, to be seen not as she was meant to, but as a ghost among, as her only freedom.
She began removing threads from the cloth, one by one plucking them away from her throat, so she could finally suck in fresh air.
She tore away the shroud over her mouth, releasing not a scream, but her own sound voice surrounding her.
She walked like this, all the words forming their own bridges, their own platforms and joys. All were persuaded without the need to look at the rest.
She would remove her shroud and observe, fixing her eyes on her own...shaking her head to know there is no one in this life that could renounce they're own truth with them the same way she could. And why every morning she put her shroud back over them, hovering over what she knew she wanted to protect, a sense of herself she didn't want anyone to see, because instead of just absorbing and feeding it back, they cast theirs away, and walk away with what you gave them.
One morning upon waking, she knew she would open her eyes to somewhere else's. She opened them to find they were not foreign, they saw into every crevice and valley, all the worlds she hid, these eyes saw, and was able to go in there with her, able to explore the underwater caves where she protects pith, the oxygen free atmosphere she resides to, the desolate vast expanses she hides in.
Those eyes never cast down and took anything, they remained fixed, forever wanting to see more.
We give ourselves an inappropriate version of love,
a version of acceptance
that can’t always be replicated.
To walk away from pain,
with the acceptance of vulnerability
makes us stride with that prowess
that reveals how we deal with failure.
At the end of the day, we will rise to the capacity we see fit.
What happens however, when we understand that new and more prolific realities confront themselves with us? We take it.
Opting for deliverance of the mundane. It chizels away at the very concept of fulfillment.
Tedious, proving ideals are shot into us like mandatory vaccines, making us believe that other plateaus or realities don’t exist.
The truest vastness conquering all beings results in our consumption and acceptance of life and death as a linear existence.
The capacity of your thoughts is limitless,
sufficing all requirements to harness such deep gusto
that girls into such a vast abyss of possibility.
Relinquish your shadows hiding in their horrid crevices,
sulking, pouncing whenever you get close.
Never suffocate. Pull the shroud of longing away.
Only then will your ayes adjust to the brightness.
Unwavering, gliding over you as they puncture you.
Force yourself to evaluate every part of yourself
Yet you continue, beyond scrutiny,
suffocation from the part of you
that doesn’t allow vulnerability.