The sadness
is sweet and sharp:
a cacophany,
a Universe
of ocean
that rages and
rocks
of which I
can only
provide glimpses
through
the glints of
salt stars.
The cavernous
pit, and expanse
of echoing promised-pain
makes all the darkness
terrifying
even the luxurious
shadows of safety
that beckon
softly.
A refuge, a
sanctuary of
stillness and repose.
This doubleness
conflicting
commingling
is mad
madness
maddening.
But it is
ancient,
as old as Moon
herself.
Bedded in me,
my soft peachy flesh
of limbs and heart,
there is space
and containment. And
I hold and keep the
embers
that makes this
darkness visible.
Month: January 2021
I squirm and thrill
I squirm
and thrill
with sherbet
in my mouth
as I dip into
the inky pools of
irony.
Black,
hilarious,
that
I long to sit
cross-legged
at the feet;
feel
inequipped
besieged
at the front.
What a
mockery
a show
that I
should sow
seeds
when the
soil
feels more
like my soul,
in limbo.
Not
ever-so-
-young,
but feeling
more and more
like a novice
each day.
This life,
experience,
so vast
at once
mountainous
fluid and
fragile:
made from nothing
signifying it all.
