Thursday, September 13, 2012



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.

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