This space is safe for you, I am here to make it so
Let’s breathe in and out together, time to let today go
My hands shape to your body, my energy flows beside yours
Feeling the language of your muscles, I listen for where it feels sore
I’m here to support your wellness, I am here to help you heal
Let’s spend an hour together, I want to know how you feel
An hour til sunrise and my eyelids won’t stay down.
Why is ambition always so high in this space of time? Knowing that in an hour my eyelids will have most likely decided to end their curious wake and once again the tops will embrace the bottoms.
I know this. But, (probably the right side), my brain is up making grandiose plans of getting up and taking a walk to see the sunrise. Of really getting a hold of myself and being the me I have been, and would like to be again. Making plans to get the house as spotless and organized as I’d like. Making plans to get my yard together. Forgetting entirely what I want to.
Are you wondering what I am forgetting on purpose? This prose is so much more whimsical without it.
Alas, the heavy tone of reality never really leaves my fingertips.
It’s in this cut out space of morning that I allow myself to daydream without constantly reminding myself of how I am fixed to my world.
I let myself not think about the depression that binds my body to it’s predetermined fatigue. I let myself drift away from the thought fog and chaos of having both a deficit of attention and an obsessive attachment to things that don’t require my attention. I let myself pretend that my energy is able to be harnessed by my own wants, and not the task of convincing myself on a cellular level that the throat butterfly is not an intruder.
I guess it’s in this hour that I do my best pretending.
1. Earth needs to be a priority.
2. History actually does repeat itself.
3. Privacy is a state of royalty
4 . Status does not change who you are as a person.
5. Voices are heard, even when they are not honored.
6. Mortality is no longer a common ground.
7. Technology is fallible.
8. Start preparing when you see the storm, don’t wait until it hits to see how heavy the rain is.
9. Women are known for rising.
10. There is a biological reason that people like their personal space.
11. Everything ebbs and flows.
12. Selfishness is a disease.
13. The title of King isn’t necessarily regal.
14. Changing history starts with today.
15. Equality is yet to be a reality.
Days that just break away from what is experienced
I don’t have it in me but some how I rise
Disconnection from head to heart and from soul to body
There are days I live here in the limbo
No instructions on how to navigate back to the surface
Sometimes the road doesn’t meet the path that you were meant to be on
But why would this make you turn around and back track
Nobody ever promised the path would all be road
Sometimes we have to walk, or run, or jump, or climb
Maybe swim
The convenience of being human is versatility
But you can’t let go
Of the fucking wheel.
I want you to hurt, still
To feel the envy hot and heavy
Sitting on your chest while I
Am the one conducting your entire
World without even so much as
A care to actually understand the situation that I am
Puppeteering from my cellphone
I want you too, to be unable to take a breath in
Without sobbing, or let a breath out without aching
I know it’s a terrible thing to wish on someone
But when I try to clear my mind, you linger
You still linger
When I am too still
I want you to hurt, still.
Do you ever feel like you can actually feel the negative energy of people thinking and speaking harsh things about you?
To me, it feels like my chest is heavy, and I have a small wince from what feels like gut punches that don’t effect my skin, but every thing deeper can feel it, and it’s right at the solar complex.
And there’s a small buzzing a bit above and behind my temples, but my temples themselves just feel tight.
I can concentrate on a mantra and make it go away, but I can also tune back into it.
And there’s a heavy sadness that, for me, lays it’s self under my eyes, and across the back of my shoulders.
And the taste of disappointment coats my mouth. . .
I guess it’s time to get a drink.
I hope when
my soul leaves the earth
and my body is returned
you’ll remember me
and bathe in the things
that made me laugh
the very hardest
like watching
The office.
Screaming loudly with ungodly amounts of invisible agony clinging to the edges of the wal-mart sack that we were convinced was such a safe and sturdy net only to find that the reality is that the sack is caught in the fickle sticks at the top of a tree and we the contents were just lucky enough to be fed so full of social static electricity that we are now stuck to the plastic folds that make up the corners.
I walked through the welcoming threshold of a home that smelled of nostalgia, love, and dark humor.
I stood in a kitchen that was meant for serious food. The kind that creates a luxurious bath of flavor over your tounge, and leaves you with a subconscious smile of satisfaction.
I sat on the kind of back porch that you only see on the television screen. Where laughter was thicker than the smoke. Where small talk was banned, because this was a place only fit for real conversation.
I fell into a smile. A smile that was warm, meaningful, and ornery all at the same damn time.
Taking care of this man was not the easiest thing I’ve done. He made sure of it. There was no mystery to how he felt or what he wanted… or didn’t want.
Curse words and thrown objects were just a part of life. Fits were had. Faces were made. Glass doors were shattered.
And each day I was ready to go back.
Because there was no mystery about who he loved
…
I hung my head on the outside of the threshold of a home. I laid my hand on the closed door, and wept. Then, I said goodbye.
I walked through the doors of a funeral home that smelled of love, nostalgia, and dark humor.
I stood in a room full of people. The kind of people that can fill your soul with a good memory, and breathe life back into loss.
I sat and watched the widow sweetly deliver no small talk, but a beautiful quilt of words that wrapped itself around each mourner.
I fell into a family. A family that is warm, meaningful, and ornery all at the same damn time.
Words for humans 