Dreams of healing

I keep trying to soften, move, heal this illness lodged in my throat but when I let go into it, I lose myself. Somehow it leads to that in-between place; Dreaming awake of realities other than this.

I can’t tell you much of that story, it isn’t mine to tell. The only thing I clearly remember is the shock that carries me back from that plane to this in a sudden spasm of simultaneous remembering and forgetting. 

It’s a feeling of grief that is bigger than all of us trapped in these stories. A grief so solid that I can not move through it, in fact I can not move at all. But something can something does and I end up back here, with the ache of that grief held fast where my wings might have been. 

Back here, Where I’m still hopeful there’s a key a clue, a secret to growing my wings back. Still looking for a way to really clear my throat, and tell you what I really mean. So I can let all the worlds know what truth we hide behind.

Beautiful yet confusing world

Lost in space
wandering in every direction at once and getting everywhere
But all tangled together
my mind spread open
spilling into another tab
a whole new window
a new profile
a new site
new connections
new problems
same old beautiful world.

My dear sweet Sadness, 

Sadness that is mine alone, 

too rich and deep for sharing. 

All the things that can not be said, 

Clawing excitably inside me.

Sadness weeping gleefully at her own misfortune.

Poor Childish heart,

Broken, human, beating breath.

wanting to be tired out

full feeling needing bleeding

Silent, Holy, Living Heart. 

listening to the dreaming

You leaned in close as if you were trying to hear the song I told you I couldn't get out of my head. But suddenly all I could hear is your silence, and it is so deep and so sweet and so clear, I can still hear it now if I listen.

Hold on

I've got nothing but miracles up my sleeves baby, 

never forget the power of living flesh, a moments breath.

Never forget these arms connect straight in to my heart. 

mothing natters

I have to let myself go
over and beyond the call
of time tickling my outsides
laughing so hard, at how soft real life is.

however It is with not without sadness,
that I look out from this shell
Upon this beautiful mess of my soul
leaked across every fathom of space,
that I come to the conclusion
I probably never existed in the first place.

And yet even this sweet sorrow
for this small (no)thing I called myself
can console me
Personally and or transcendently
because really,
 Nothing matters
maybe it's the only thing that does.

all the things I must forget

I remember nothing,
The warp and the weave of it, the feel of it underneath my fingers.
I remember it exactly how I wanted it;
and how exactly it is.

Now when I try to find where I put down my keys,
my phone,
my life,
nothing consumes me.

And when you ask me how I am
I have nothing much to say.

xo