Acting as embryos

We tongue time in days and weeks

Speaking with the utmost importance

about something 

that hasn't even been named yet

But I am here.

And I am alive and my heart is beating

And I feel it like a weight

A stone sitting in the base of this organ

Dragging it out so slowly

Tortuously, to core out

The weight of what I’ve done

To create a space so hollow

That only the echo of its beautiful rhythm remains

And Men play act juvenile Gods

Exacting sick justice

Or terrible revenge

Something to make their hearts race

To feel the weight of what they’ve done

Or what’s been done

Subside, to justify something

And who even cares in the end, what it is?

Or what it was?

It is all in moments

In days

In weeks

Months and years pass and

who even cares?

There is only here and now

And the reasons had aren’t the reason we have anymore

And holding on to something like sand

Something like time and moments

Is so God damn ignoble

Ignitable like Judge and Juror

Hunting for witches

Bewitched by the moonlight

Tricked into chasing skirts

In the search for morality

Searching for something that has a name

And about sixteen different meanings

Different reasons for the same sixteen stories we all tell

When we are caught being human

That nasty thing so reliant

On moments

So reliant on names, when half the time

Identity is the most indefinable word

In the Human language

But I am here.

And I am breathing

And my heart is still beating somewhere

Lost in the space where my stomach should be

As it makes its hollow way through my human core

I have always loved swimming

The way the waves rock your body

And leave you feeling slightly off balance

The way that balance is so easily restored

Because after all,

I am in control of my legs

The way a head and heart can swim though,

I am not a fan

The way a body can treat it’s organs

Like the ocean treats its dead

The way arms and legs can turn to sand

And hearts can turn to little fish

Consumed by the rocking waves of

A brain consumed by moments

By days

By weeks

By months and years that hold the promise,

The key to all sixteen stories

About what it means

To be here.

And I am here.

I breathe,
In through my nose and out
through my mouth and now
I taste, you
are so close.

You breathe,
In and Out and
in. And
you pause,
"Where are you?"

and I pause. And.
I breathe and
you taste
something like life and
something like the air outside
when you wake up
and nothing else exists
and it is cold
and your skin is tight
but your throat,
It is so damn clear.

And what do I
taste like?

Because you taste
like infinity.
And I,
I am so.

i got a free donut!

and i don't exist. i woke up feeling like a human and i said it and i cried and i bit threw the skin on my thumb and i felt it but even that didn't make me more real. what am i. said not with a question but declarative. period. what am i. there is more yearning here then what a simple set of punctual marks can make of me..... ME. what. of me. MAN. and i don't take that too personal. MAN. is. cast in a mold of immaturity. self imposed. and even when he -simply- understands. he still is sub. sub. par. sub. intellect. still human. fitted. fuck. i hate prefixes. and fuck you kant. "enlightenment is man's emergence from self imposed immaturity." Sapere Aude mother fucker.

i am.
22.
too new.


i want to keep you slightly under my skin, 
neatly nestled inches from the origin.
that tiny seed with each pulsation  gave life to my 
mannequin body. 
in plain sight
 you lay your fingers on the rhythm of my creation.
feeding each undulation with the residue left like 
a finger print slightly smeared on the mirror.