Everything is unwound, unbound, untoned, unchained all over again.
Funny thing, that wall of scared and hate and petrified,
it bounces up
and down
Like a sick jellyfish wobbling where it should be standing
still
I think that maybe it’s all a matter of clouds, and perspective on the sky
- like that comment on the moon a few nights away -
whether the weather rains or suns on me, that jellyfish still keeps wobbling
But I suppose that’s better too, than the rock solid, diamond strong other something,
which used to be a cosmos at the inner pieces
of inside.
When it was all veins and beats and tired, worn-out muscle that strained and pulled and drained
and became a sort of essence to what I believed my core to be
Now, the mist seems to clear - terrifyingly bright the outside is - and smiles become truthful,
rather than
expectant.
No comments:
Post a Comment